


With a Wink and a Smile

by DistractedBySparklyThingsAndToast



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, F/M, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedBySparklyThingsAndToast/pseuds/DistractedBySparklyThingsAndToast
Summary: Claire and Jamie get their kink on, practice making babies, dance a ton and have scads of fun!Claire enjoys wresting control away from her flame-haired Viking...And Jamie discovers he likes it.. A LOT :)
Relationships: Brian Fraser/Ellen MacKenzie Fraser, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Jamie Fraser & Murtagh Fraser, Jenny Fraser/Ian Murray
Comments: 30
Kudos: 85





	With a Wink and a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I don't own any Outlander characters or anything in real life, like wineries, coffee-carafe-making  
> Japanese companies or anything... 
> 
> You'll notice that some old friends make cameos, including Frank and Laoghire; I've always felt he got short-shrift, when I think he just wanted Claire to love him. And Laoghire? Well, I just wanted to take her out of the villainess role for once.
> 
> That being said, I'm going to warn you that this fic is 100% NSFW and as kinky as Weird Al Yankovic's hair. You've just bought yourself a first-class ticket on the Smut Train! This has BDSM elements in it, so if you're not comfortable with that, please read something else.
> 
> I've put some references you may find helpful at the end of the story. I realize most will not need them, but I put them there for newbies
> 
> This is my first time writing dialogue, so I am wide-open for corrections!
> 
> Thoughtful discourse is always welcome.
> 
> This is my first posting so the formatting may suck. My apologies!

With a Wink and a Smile 

Modern-day Edinburgh

JAMIE looked up as the door opened and smiled as he saw Claire come through the door. 

"Did ye and Geilis clean out all the wee boutiques, Sassenach? I see you have some verra small bags in yer wee hand. Shall I help ye carry 'em upstairs so you can model what's inside them fer me? As if I did'na hope." He looked at her with his eyes twinkling and a crimson blush painting his skin. 

Claire winked and smiled at him then shouted, "NOPE!" and tore up the stairs, giggling madly. 

"Ifrinn!" Jamie jumped up from his custom-made recliner and ran after his love. Too far behind her, he nearly smashed his forehead into their bedroom door which had been unceremoniously slammed in his face. He heard the lock shooting home. Surprised, he knocked on the door, 

"Mo chridhe, are you going to let me in?" 

Claire started laughing and Jamie smiled when he heard her snort in a most unladylike manner. 

"Claire! Are ye laughin' at me? What's so funny?" 

"Yes, love, I most certainly am laughing at you!" 

"Oh, aye? Well, unlock this door and I'll give you what you deserve for laughing at your lord and master!" 

That last pronouncement made Claire howl with laughter, and even Jamie hadn't been able to keep a straight face when he'd said it. Jamie made like he was going to force the door, rattling the doorknob until it squeaked. 

Claire called out to him, "Sweetheart, please don’t kill the doorknob, I like it,” now it was Jamie's turn to snicker, and he left the doorknob in peace.

“Jamie, will you give me a minute? I have a surprise for you, but I need a few to set up properly. Would you mind terribly going downstairs and decanting that lovely Silver Oak Merlot for us? I'll call you when I'm ready; is that alright?" 

"Aye, love, 'tis. I'll wait till ye summon me," Jamie smiled and ambled down the stairs. He pulled the inky, sensuous Merlot out of the wine rack, uncorked it and set two Riedel balloon glasses next to the bottle. He sank with a thankful groan onto his custom-made Strathclyde and Sons reclining leather chair, a most welcome birthday gift from his Sassenach for his birthday last month. Finding chairs to accommodate his 6’4” frame was hard enough, but Claire had paid extra for a fitter to come out and help Jamie determine how the chair should be built to reduce muscle strain and pressure on his joints, etc. Soon, he was watching his favorite soccer team wipe the pitch with their competition.

Upstairs, Claire touched up her makeup and carefully hung Jamie's surprise on a hanger. She dug into another bag and pulled out pillar candles, which she placed around the room. She lit the candles and rearranged them until their effect was just right. She disrobed and rolled her black silk stockings up her legs and snapped the tops into her garter. She slipped into the filmy silk negligee, making sure that it laid perfectly. 

She stepped to the dresser and put on the custom-made sapphire and diamond necklace and matching earrings Jamie gave her last Christmas. Both pieces perfectly matched her mother's sapphire and diamond ring her father gave her mother when Claire was born. She'd cried so hard when she unwrapped the beautiful pieces that Jamie actually thought she was upset with him, the fool. When she'd calmed down enough, she'd launched herself so forcefully into his arms that she'd have knocked him down if they hadn’t been sitting on the floor. Peppering him with kisses, she managed to breathe out, 

“Oh, love, they're too much! They're perfect!” and to Jamie's dismay, she’d started crying again. He’d simply held her gently, rubbing her back and whispered Gaelic sweet-nothings in her ear to calm her.

She toed into her black silk Louboutins with the sumptous black silk bow in the back. Jamie called them “those damnable shoes,” and Claire swore he got half a cockstand every time she wore them. She opened the door a bit and called Jamie to come up. He was curious what she'd been doing and strode purposefully to the door. She'd closed the door, and he felt it best to knock softly, 

“Sassenach? May I come in?” His ears pricked up when he heard “Those Shoes" by The Eagles start thumping through the bedroom.

“Yes, Jamie, please come in.” He opened the door carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the candlelight. 

“Where are ye, a leannan?” 

“Jamie, will you humor me and sit on the bed and close your eyes, please?”

He crossed over to the bed and sat on its edge, pulse increasing with his anticipation.

“Alright, they're closed, my enchanting fairy. Ye need not be scairt o' me.” 

Claire stepped forward and took his huge warm hands in hers.

“You can open them now, love.”

Jamie opened his eyes slowly and his mouth went dry, cock stiffening at what he saw before him. His Sassenach was a cerulean vision, from the top of her wee head to the tips of her toes, wrapped snugly in those damnable shoes, surely crafted by Beelzebub himself. He'd probably see them in purgatory. 

Her curls gleamed mahogany and fire in the candlelight, such a striking contrast to her creamy alabaster skin. He saw a negligee that whispered of mysterious secrets, displaying her breasts as if for a private banquet laid out only for him. He groaned when he saw the sinful stockings she'd chosen to caress her delectable legs. He'd never wanted to be sheer silk until this very moment. His heavily lidded eyes stopped to look at the sleek puzzle of ribbon and lace that covered her honeypot. He was almost afraid he'd have a stroke when he'd finally be allowed to see how her ass would look in this little scrap of fabric, and he swallowed noisily.

He swallowed a lump in his throat when he saw she had the sapphire and diamond jewelry on, his gift to her, the jewels which paled in beauty to that of her heart. 

“Jamie?” Claire broke into his thoughts and looked at him carefully. “what do you think? Do you like what I bought?”

Jamie shook his head and snorted at her ridiculous question. He cleared his suddenly parched throat and said, 

“Oh, aye, I do, mo nighean donn, and I have the cockstand to prove it! May I kiss ye, my lady?”

“No, Jamie, you may not. I want you to listen to me now, please.” Claire said, trying to ignore how crestfallen he looked. “What I really want is for you to let me dominate you tonight. How do you feel about that?”

“Weel, och, actually,” he blushed a hot crimson, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “that's something I've been wanting to ask you to do for a long time, but I was ashamed.”

Claire stared at the love of her heart and choked out, “why on Earth would you be ashamed? Being curious is natural! Because we're new at this, I am going to give you a safe word - it's ‘Highlander.’” She took a deep breath and continued, “If you are uncomfortable in the least, say that word and all the play’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay, Sorcha, I'm game.” Jamie grinned his most disarming, most charming grin, and Claire felt herself flush with hot desire and her knees turn to jelly. 

“Dammit, how does he always so this to me?” she swore to herself. Cheeky fucking Scot.

“The rules are these, Jamie. You will obey me, with no backtalk. You may not touch me without permission. You will speak only with permission. If you fail to follow my orders, you will be punished. And you will call me Mistress, nothing else, unless given leave to do so. Lastly, I control your orgasms. You don't get to come unless I give you permission. Are these terms acceptable? You can take time to think about it; I can leave and come back when you call me.”

“No, Sassenach, I’m sure I can handle anything you dish out. Do yer worst!” 

As soon as the words were out of Jamie's mouth, he looked at Claire and wished he hadn't said them, because he saw the telling flash in her mesmerizing narrowed eyes that she'd interpreted his bragging as a personal challenge.

“Alright, strip, and be quick about it, boy.”

Jamie jumped off the bed and said, “yes, Mistress.” 

Claire watched and smiled at his turned back; he was moving as fast as he could. Then she saw he'd just thrown his clothes in a jumbled pile. “Congratulations, lad, you've earned your first punishment.” 

Jamie turned around, wide-eyed and open-mouthed and looked down at his clothes, embarrassed. He cleared his throat as if to say something. Claire arched her eyebrow at him in challenge, wondering if he'd add a second infraction. 

“You may speak.”

“Oh, Mistress, I'm sorry. May I fold my clothes?”

Claire nodded and Jamie thanked her profusely. He set about folding his clothes and stood up facing her when he finished.

“Alright boy, on the bed on your back.” 

“Yes, Mistress, thank you.”

Claire made sure he was comfortable, put some pillows under his neck for comfort and ordered, “stay, boy.”

Jamie gulped and whispered hoarsely, “yes, Mistress,” because he'd seen Claire step to the dresser quickly, admiring how her ass was shown off with those fucking Louboutins. All he could think about was licking, kissing, rubbing and pinching her gorgeous bottom. He’d been right about how the silk framed her backside – it was perfect, delectable and out of reach, dammit. He was torn rudely out of his reverie by an ominous metallic “clink." He paled when he saw her clutching several things - a leather collar, two sets of metal handcuffs, oil, a crop and something else he'd never seen – it looked like a really oddly shaped dildo.

Claire advanced on him and quickly buckled the collar around his neck. She took the attached chain and hooked it to the bed with a carabiner. She snapped the cuffs to their scroll-design wrought-iron headboard, but tightened the cuffs only to the loosest notch, so they wouldn’t chafe his large wrists. 

“Well, my boy, now that I have you right where I want you, it's time for your punishment.” 

Claire mounted Jamie, facing away from him, so that her gorgeous ass was in his face. She leaned over him and started Spotify on her phone and “Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stones echoed from the bedroom walls. Jamie groaned, understanding why she'd restrained him. Now, his woman was teasing him, as he often did to her. He knew that the sensual dance in front of him was payback for all the times he'd used his superior strength to dominate her, bringing her so close to completion but not finishing her, making her scream in frustration. He would always laugh at her, because he was calling the shots. 

She turned her beautiful head and fucking winked at him and began to writhe and shimmy her way down his body, making sure to grind against his cock so that he hissed in exertion, trying not to come.

“Oh, Jesus, Mary, Mother of God, if ye've ever loved me, have mercy on your son now!" he prayed. 

“… make a dead man co-o-o-me,” filled his brain. 

“Aye, payback is a bitch, but what a way to go,” he thought wryly. 

Jamie panted, trying to look away from his woman's bewitching ass. He finally resolved to stare at a spot on the opposite wall, but a flash of blue drew Jamie's greedy eyes to her breasts, so bonnie, undulating and bobbing gently, just out of reach. He saw how the silk and lace caressed her nipples and he nearly cried in frustration that he couldn't do the same with his mouth. 

She started massaging his feet with a bit of oil and Jamie couldn't help a deep groan. She seemed to be all over his feet at once, relaxing and exhilarating him all at the same time. He whimpered when she took her hands away, but then he felt his toes being sucked into her beautiful mouth. She was gentle, and her tongue gladly slipped over each toe in turn. Jamie sighed when he felt her oil-slicked hands continue to massage his feet. And thank God, his cock was relaxing a bit.

Claire withdrew from him and he sighed, turned his head and watched her go into the ensuite. He heard the water running as she washed her hands and heard her humming, always a sign she was happy. She exited the bathroom and left the bedroom without a word to him, closing the door.

Jamie closed his eyes and relaxed until he heard THE GODDAMN ICEMAKER rumble to life sounding like an angry rhino with sinus problems. 

“Oh, aye, Imma in a right swivet,” he thought to himself. Claire came in and set a small bowl on her bedside table. 

She straddled him again and saw her love's eyes turn nearly black in heated desire. Jamie arched his back and grunted as she swallowed his cock all the way to the base. Her wonderful tongue massaged up his shaft and she nibbled her way down again, Jamie moaning each time her teeth gently gazed his hardness. She squirted a little lube on her hand and grasped the base and made a long repeating corkscrew motion up his cock until she reached the tip, which she teased with her tongue. She heard Jamie's labored breathing and the handcuff links rattling as he squeezed his hands into fists, fighting to suppress his climax. Claire stopped licking him and Jamie whimpered. Claire ignored him and just stroked his cock with one hand.

“Tell me, my most precious property, how does this feel? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Jamie cleared his throat,“oh aye, Mistress, I am. Everything you're doing is wonderful, thank ye.”

“Hmmm… everything I'm doing is wonderful? That doesn't seem like much of a punishment.” Jamie gulped as he saw Claire's eyes narrow again and she smiled a very Grinchy grin. That type of grin was dangerous under the best of circumstances – and now? Jamie shuddered at his helplessness.

Nervously, Jamie whispered, “please, Mistress, I did'na mean that. Please, just continue. I was so close,” he practically whined the last few words.

“Oh, so you lied? Everything wasn't wonderful? Lying to Mistress is about the worst thing you could do, boy. I’d considered letting you come, but your punishment will have to continue, now. I want to hear you, naughty boy, how's the punishment feel?” Claire smirked and reached over him. She knew her breasts, just out of reach, cruelly taunted Jamie; he inhaled sharply and turned his face away from her, exhaling noisily. 

“No, boy, look at Mistress.” Claire grasped his chin gently and turned his face to look in his eyes – as she'd hoped, his pupils were blown wide with arousal. She smirked at him, looking deeply into his eyes. She caressed her breasts gently, rolling, pinching and pulling her nipples, moaned with abandon and gyrated on top of him. Jamie thought he was going to lose his ever-loving mind. She really was a witch, no doubt. His cock and balls were swelling and Jamie tried squirming to a more comfortable position.

She reached over and dipped her hand in the bowl on the bedside table for a few seconds, smiling innocently. Again, Claire smirked and bent down, swallowing his cock, making him jump. She upped the ante and pushed his thighs apart, took his scrotum in her hand and pulled steadily. She could hear Jamie's moans grow louder and more throaty and Claire redoubled her efforts on his cock, humming noisily and slurping for all she was worth.

“Ah, Dhia, Sorcha, i-i-s so goooood. I’m almost there, lass!” 

She let his cock go suddenly and hissed, “Sorcha? Lass? What’s the rule about how you're allowed to address me, boy?”

“Oh, God, Mistress, your boy is sorry!” Jamie cried desperately, a wild look in his ocean-blue eyes.

To Jamie's horror, Claire released his balls and started fondling his cockhead with her ice-cold fingers. He yelled in shock, utterly undone by the temperature change. He'd been so close and she so cruel. Claire could see his cock soften and Jamie's eyes were now slits of hard blue steel. He huffed out a hot breath and took deep cleansing breaths to calm himself.

“You said you were on the edge of an orgasm, love, and what I just did to you is called ‘edging,’ bringing someone to the brink of orgasm and then denying them.” She looked at him pointedly and hissed, “how's it feel, coming so close and having it snatched away from you? As I recall, you seem to think it's funny to do it to me. Is it funny now, boy?”

“No Mistress, it is'na funny at all. I ask ye to fergive me, please, I'll ne'er do it agin,” Jamie ground out gutterally. He collected his handsome face into a mask. He grunted a noncommittal “Scottish noise” and scrutinized her carefully. “If ye do that to me again I'm no' sure I'll survive, Mistress.”

He wasn't surprised when she asked him if he wanted to stop; but he'd realized that letting her continue was allowing him to fulfill her fantasy – and he wanted to do that.

“You took that discipline well, boy. You deserve a reward. Would you like to see what you've done to your Mistress, how you've made her wet and in need of a thorough cleaning?” She advanced on him and Jamie suddenly understood what a lioness' prey must feel right before they breathed their last; her golden whisky orbs were magnetic, and he couldn't look away. She growled low in her throat and nibbled, licked and dragged her long, manicured nails from the back of his knees right up to the apex of his inner thighs, making him shudder. The look on her face was one of pure desire and hot, breathless need. 

“Yes, please let me worship you properly, Mistress,” he begged throatily, “please.” He felt his cock stir as she leaned down and gave him a scorching kiss that set his nerves on fire. She straddled him and Jamie welcomed the darkness. He gasped as she fisted his curls and pushed his head gently into her center. “Good God, she smells heavenly,” thought Jamie. “and all of it's for me.“ He marveled that she actually wasn't wearing a thong, but that she'd simply undone some bows; her honeypot was bare and ready for him. She’d grinned at him and tied the ribbons back so they'd be out of his way and not tickle his nose, which he hated - typically considerate Claire.

Her pussy was heavy with juice like a tree-ripened peach and her beautiful labia were hanging just beyond his hungry mouth's reach. He whimpered in need, and Claire acquiesced, holding onto the top of the headboard, settling herself lower over his waiting mouth. He started out gently licking, nibbling and sucking, gladly swallowing her juices and enjoying his Mistress' pleasured sighs and groans. He saw her nub emerging from its hood. He thought about the article he'd read in her latest copy of “The Lancet;” the clitoris is not necessary for procreation; its only purpose is to provide orgasmic pleasure with its approximately eight thousand nerve endings. He sucked on it for all he was worth and was rewarded with a throaty gasp and trembling thighs. Soon, though, he felt her rocking and heard her whimpering; he knew he could spear his tongue wickedly and glide over that spot to bring her over the edge with a wail – and he did just that, proud she couldn't even say his whole name as she gushed into his greedy maw, screaming like a newborn. She took a few minutes to come back down, then she climbed off him carefully, got a very warm washcloth and bathed his face lovingly.

She straddled him and started playing with his cock again, teasing the tip with the tip of her tongue. She trailed wetly down his cock until she reached his balls, and laved them with her tongue. She hummed when she heard Jamie gasp and pull at his restraints, moaning at the fire pooling in his belly. She started an alternating pattern of mouthing and massaging his balls, and Claire saw that his cock was getting stiffer and stiffer. She stopped all of it suddenly, and Jamie whined. She stepped over to the dresser and slipped a cock ring on his length. He was surprised - they'd never discussed this, but it wasn't like he could remove it. She straddled him again and stretched on top of him, listening to his breaths change from deep and calm to shorter and ragged. He was fighting his cuffs, trying to touch her, any part of her. In response, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, demanding entry to his mouth. He stopped fighting and groaned, tongues battled for dominance. She sucked on his neck, right below his ear, hard enough to leave a mark and make him hiss and try to get away from the pain. 

“Mine, only mine. Do you understand me, my love? I've marked you and I claim you as mine. I won't share you with anyone.”

“Yes, Mistress. I'm only yours, nobody else's, as long as you claim me.”

“Good boy.” 

She put a finger to her lips so he would stay silent and put massage oil on her hands, slipping them underneath his buttocks, starting a sensual massage. He groaned appreciatively and relaxed into her hands, sucking in a sharp breath as he realized where she was going. She'd moved her hands down slowly and trailed warm slick fingers up his inner thighs and cupped his balls and squeezed gently. He bucked uncontrollably and thrust before he could stop himself. Claire stopped her ministrations and cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. He shook his head at her slightly and clamped his mouth shut, his eyes imploring her for mercy. He started praying she wouldn't punish him for something he hadn't meant to do. Thankfully, she continued her massage and took him in her mouth again. Her hot tongue moved wetly over the base of his cock, and she experimentally slid the lubed ring up and down, noting when he made Scottish noises of pleasure and when it seemed he quieted down. She lubed up her hand and squeezed his cock, and he gasped in throaty pleasure. His pleasure was extended when she dragged her nails gently down his cockhead. Shivers ran down his spine, and he couldn't stop himself from shouting that he was close to coming, 

“God, Claire, I'm goin' ta blow my load if you keep that up, lass! Please, please let me come, for the love of all things holy and the love I bear for ye!”

She released his cock with a very wet “pop" strode up to him and grabbed his jaw, snarling, 

“What's my name?”

Jamie half choked on a sob and whispered “Mistress.”

She whirled around and left the room, slamming the door. The echo of the slammed door was cut short by his frustrated howl at being denied again. Downstairs, she checked on the wine and got him some water and a straw and poured two whiskies. She put everything on a tray and entered the room quietly. She kissed him gently, bringing another warm washcloth to bathe his handsome face, now shining with exertion. 

“Ssshhhh, love, you're okay. Mistress isn't angry anymore, alright? Would you like a sip of water?” He smiled a very small smile and nodded his head, gratefully accepting the straw she held out to him and drinking until he'd drained the cup. 

“Imma terrible sorry, Mistress, I was rude to ye. I beg your pardon.” She smiled, cooed over him and smoothed his hair. She picked up a tumbler of whisky and sat next to him. She dipped two fingers in the golden nectar and Jamie gladly caressed and bathed them with his tongue, moaning in pleasure. She used her fingertips to paint his lips with the whisky and smiled as he savored the taste. She scooched closer to his head, gently held it and offered him whisky, which he gratefully accepted.

“You're forgiven, pet. This is new and you're doing well.” Jamie's wame knotted in pleasure when she called him “pet,” but he wasn't sure why. She bent and kissed his forehead, looking down at his now-limp cock and the ring that was suddenly too big. 

She warmed her hands with hot water and oiled them up. She moved confidently from his toes up to his calves, pulling out as much stress as she could. Jamie sighed happily – she was making him feel like a buttered noodle, his Sorcha. 

His mind drifted to the first time he'd seen her in the local pub, which was different to the others in the area, as it had a dance floor and space for a small band or deejay. She was shaking her absolutely stupendous ass to Mark Ronson's “Uptown Funk,” featuring Bruno Mars. She, poured into in a fire engine-red form-fitting Carolina Herrera minidress with black silk Louboutins, had a gorgeous crown of dark brown mahogany curls, ivory skin and legs that went on for miles. And holy Jesus, she wore fishnet stockings. Her startling eyes were brown – no, he realized, they were a beautiful melange of sable and lighter brown flecked with gold - whisky eyes. Jamie stood as if glued to the spot. He knew he had to talk to this woman. 

She was with several people: a slender green-eyed redhead, a lanky brown-haired man, a really tiny blonde, a woman with curly chestnut hair and a black man. They were all on the dance floor together, laughing and grabbing each others' hands as they twirled, stomped their feet and sang along at the top of their voices. 

Jamie was there with his best friends Rupert and Angus and his beloved godfather, Murtagh.  
They'd come in for a beer after work at Jamie's family's distillery. 

He took note of where they sat, and saw they were all drinking Fraser's whisky. When the table had finished their drinks, he called Willy over. Willy was the bar’s owner and bartender for the night. Jamie whispered to Willy to set them all up again with a bottle of his family's best on his tab. His family supplied this bar and Willy knew Jamie would make good on the favor.

He watched as they all looked at the waitress in surprise, and she gestured to him. He raised his glass to them and they toasted him back, continuing their lively conversation, all except one – his Sorcha, a.k.a. Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, pediatric orthopedic surgeon. She made her way through the crowd, and he noticed approvingly that she drank her whisky neat – and she'd brought it with her when she searched him out.

“Well, hello, thank you for the excellent bottle of whisky. My name's Claire. To what and whom do my friends and I owe this honor?” she inquired politely.

“Hello, Claire, I'm Jamie, and I noticed you were all drinking my family's whisky. As a thank-you, I asked the owner, Willy, to send over a bottle for the table. He and I are childhood mates.”

Claire stared at him and her voice dropped, making Jamie wonder how he could get that to happen again. “You're Jamie Fraser, as in goddamn fucking delicious Lallybroch Distillery? Yours is my favorite Highland single-malt! It’s the only brand I use for my mother's super-secret-recipe sticky toffee pudding! Claire blushed crimson as she realized what just came out of her mouth. 

“God, I'm an idiot. What a potty mouth. Please excuse my French; I got overexcited for a minute, there!” She began to giggle and covered her mouth in embarrassment, which made Jamie laugh. Claire noticed how her stomach seemed to flip-flop at his baritone chuckle and realized that she'd known this man for a total of five minutes and she was in trouble – big, blue-whale-size trouble. She dragged him and his friends over to meet her friends and somehow, they managed to filch a couple smaller tables and fit them to the end of the booth. Everyone spent the night chatting, dancing and drinking. 

Jamie asked her to dance, and as he held her gently and he stared into her whisky eyes, he was entranced. It hit him like an Acme anvil from a Looney Tunes cartoon - she was The One. Jamie's father and grandfather both knew the second they laid eyes on their wives that they were destined to be together and Brian Fraser had assured Jamie it would happen for him, too. 

Jamie and Claire had danced together several times - she'd also danced with the other men in Jamie's party and couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. She saw that he danced with her friends too, and had to giggle when 6’4” Jamie danced with 5’4” Laoghire. She was tempted to ask Laoghire if she wanted stilts…

At the end of the night, she grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled her number down and handed it to the hulking, handsome redhead. He opened the paper and squinted, 

“Is this supposed to be yer mobile number or Morse code? I can barely read this squiggle!” 

“Well, handsome, it ain't my Uncle Lamb's sugar cookie recipe,” she winked and smiled. 

Jamie's eyes twinkled and he leaned down and whispered, “for the record, I prefer peanut butter cookies, Sassenach. I especially love them dipped in black coffee for breakfast after a night of exertion.” Claire's knees shook as he rolled the “r" in “exertion” sumptuously. “Will ye invite me over and make me some, sometime?” His voice dropped on the last few words. Claire's stomach clenched and she felt light-headed.

He and Claire had been together since that night over a year ago and if Jamie had his way, she'd become Mrs. Fraser before very much longer. Others had paired off as well: Geilis the redhead and Rupert; Laoghire the tiny blonde and Angus; Murtagh and Suzette of the chestnut curls. Joe the black man and Frank the lanky brown-haired man were already a couple. Everyone at the pub that night became fast friends, especially Claire and Geilis.

Jamie was shaken from his reverie when Claire unlocked the handcuffs from the headboard, but was surprised (and not a little confused) when Claire didn't remove the rings from his wrists as well. She helped him up so he was on all fours and demanded that he face the end of the bed. He complied wordlessly, earning a soft kiss on his cheek from his Mistress and a short neck massage, which made him groan. She fastened the cuffs to the footboard and clicked them closed. 

“Open your legs until they're a bit more than shoulder-width apart, Jamie,” she said firmly. 

He slid his knees carefully over the coverlet and saw her reach for a metal tube with restraints dangling from each end. He watched her warily as she approached him, but didn't turn his head to see what she was doing behind him – he was afraid he'd get another edging session and dreaded that more than anything. She slipped the padded cuffs around his ankles and then fastened a silk scarf snugly around his eyes.

Claire leaned down to his ear and said quietly, “boy, if you can hear me, nod your head.”

Jamie nodded and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“For this next part, you may not speak or make noise and you must stay on all fours. Is that clear? Nod again if you understand your Mistress.”

Jamie nodded, slower this time.

She moved a little behind him and he drew a breath sharply when he realized she'd started to caress his thighs, back and bottom with the crop. He went rigid with apprehension, and was relieved when he barely felt the cool leather touch him again. She stepped back and he heard the crop before she tapped him lightly on his thigh. It didn't really hurt; it was just a surprise. Jamie let out a great breath of air - his head was suddenly pulled up - Claire whispered to him to relax. She kissed him then – at first very gently but soon, heat was coiling in his belly as she intensified the kiss. Jamie felt his cock start to awaken and again, tried to think of anything that would ease the building pressure in his balls. She broke the kiss and moved away from him, only to slip that goddamn cockring on him again. 

“Ifrinn!” he thought, “what's the wee she-devil up to now?” Jamie waited for her to strike him again. The longer he had to wait, the more anticipation ate away at him. Finally, she tapped each cheek in rapid succession, and it was almost a relief. She continued for five more strokes on each thigh and buttock. Then, nothing - and a deafening silence filled the room for what, to him, seemed like an hour.

She moved onto the bed behind him and planted little kisses on his ass, which made him moan before he could stop himself. 

She giggled, “that's ok, baby, no harm, no foul!” and snorted with laughter, very pleased with herself. 

Next, he heard the “pop!” of the lube container being opened, and stiffened when he felt her index finger circling his back passage. She whispered soothing sweet nothings to him and continued to lube his opening, finally inserting one finger, then two, scissoring them and pulling them back and forth to get him used to the sensation. She removed her fingers and went to the ensuite to wash them. He heard her come back and heard the lube open again.

“Jamie, I have a prostate massager in my hand, I’ve put plenty of lube on it and I'll start out really slowly and gently.”

“You may speak during this but you may not, under any circumstance, turn your head, even though I've decided to remove the blindfold. You must still address me as ‘Mistress,’ is that clear? Also, would you like some water?”

Jamie cleared his throat and said quietly, “Aye, Mistress, I understand. I am not to turn around, I am to still address you as Mistress, and, yes, thank ye, I would like some water.”

“Here, my love, drink.” Claire eased the straw between his lips. When he was done drinking, she gently applied balm so his lips wouldn't crack and bleed.

Claire stepped behind him and eased her fingers down his shaft until she felt the cock ring. She made sure it was sitting properly and removed her hand, making Jamie groan in frustration. He hung his head, and hissed when she pushed her lubed finger into him again, making sure he was prepared for the prostate massager. She kept her fingers gliding in and out of his depths, and loved hearing Jamie moan with pleasure in English and Gaelic. She nipped and licked his ass and pulled on his scrotum. She decided to bite him hard enough to leave a mark, and did just that, where his hip met his thigh, making him wince and growl.

For Jamie, it felt like she was everywhere at once.

“Please, Mistress, God, Jesus, at least touch ma puir cock; that’ll send me over the edge, ah'm sure of it!”

She tut-tutted at him and refused, smiling wickedly, reveling that she had this giant of a man at her mercy. She inserted the prostate massager and turned it on its lowest setting. Jamie started and cursed and attempted to escape the foreign feeling, forgetting for a second that he was shackled to the bedframe. Claire kept one hand on the massager and picked up the crop with her free hand, running it lightly down Jamie's thighs. He almost turned around then, but remembered and stayed facing forward. 

“No, please, Mistress, please don't!”

“Please don't what? Be specific.”

Jamie took a deep breath in and held it for a couple of seconds and breathed out again,

“Please, Mistress, oh Christ, don't beat me again. I dinna think I can control myself if ye do. Ye know I'm totally under your power and happy to be there, Mistress.” 

Jamie felt his stomach clench in the most delicious way when he acknowledged Claire's control over him.

Claire sighed dramatically, smacking the crop lightly on the bed, “well, since you begged so nicely and followed all the rules, I won't beat your thighs.” And with that, she took the crop and ran it gently up and down his cock. He held in a breath and Claire could see him trembling in fear. She snapped it with considerable force one, two and a last time on his well-defined six-pack and Jamie hissed, bucked and jerked at his restraints, causing the footboard to shake.

Claire walked back to his head and kissed his head. “You took that well, boy, and I'm going to reward you. She left the massager where it was. “Don't let that massager slip, Jamie, or what I just did to your sixpack will feel like child's play, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress, I understand.”

Claire went and got both whiskies and drained hers right in front of him and smiled as Jamie watched her longingly, unconsciously licking his lips.

“Would you like a drink, Darling?” Jamie nodded mutely and Claire put the glass right under his nose, purring, “that smells delicious, doesn't it? Tell me, would you like to drink from my hand, like the obedient pet you are?” Jamie could only moan at her lascivious suggestion and Claire felt moisture starting to drip down her thigh at how low and smoky his voice was, 

“Aye, my lady, your pet will drink from your beautiful hand if that's what you desire. I'm yours to command.”

She pulled his head up by his curls and bit his throat where it met his powerful shoulder. Jamie groaned and cursed when she used her teeth and tongue on his collarbone as well. She eased his head down and poured a tiny amount of whisky into her cupped palm, growling “here, boy, drink.” She inhaled sharply when she felt Jamie’s soft lips and hot tongue on her hand, “oh, fuck, boy, you’re making me drip. Do you hear me? You're making my juices drip down my thighs by drinking from my palm, goddamn you!" Jamie smiled like the cat who'd eaten the canary and kissed her palm gently. 

“May I kiss ye, Mistress, please?” Jamie begged very prettily, Claire thought.

“Yes, love. You may kiss me.” Claire took his beautiful visage in her hands and let him kiss her. She let him set the pace, and it was searching, slow, strong and oh-so hot. Their tongues danced and when she broke the kiss, they were both light-headed trembling wrecks.

Claire saw that Jamie’s cock was hard, and made a decision. She looked Jamie straight in the eye and said, 

“You better fasten your seatbelt, boy! And you may speak. Tell Mistress how everything feels,” 

smiling her most seductive smile. She undid the restraints, ordered him on his back and refastened his hands to the headboard. The last thing she did was place a wedge pillow under his hips. Without warning, she inhaled him all the way to the cockring, massaging him with her hot tongue and the roof of her eager mouth. Jamie shouted in ecstasy, his legs trembling and his heart pounding such a hard rhythm against his ribs that he thought he’d break a rib. She could tell that her man was very near his completion; he was grunting and thrusting into her with all his strength. Naturally, she chose this time to withdraw, which caused Jamie to plead, beg, and shout obscenities at all the saints in the heavens. 

She waited until he was a little calmer and started moving the prostate massager in him again. Jamie didn't want to become aroused again, only to have it snatched away, like poor Charlie Brown, Lucy van Pelt and that stupid football. And to add insult to injury, he laughed to himself, the doctor was “IN.” His vixen knew exactly what to do to get him started again. 

“Och, Dhia, St. Michael, defend us! Mistress, I canna believe how good this feels! Please, please keep doin' this and don' stop, I'm beggin' ye!”

Claire laughed and said, “keep doing this? Just this? Uh-uh, boy, I have more for you!” 

Jamie couldn't believe his ears. He paled a little and Claire couldn't help giggling. What the fuck was she on about, more? Claire heard him whisper a prayer and giggled.

“Mistress, beggin’ yer pardon, but my cock already feels like it's gonna snap off!”

She chuckled and said, “Pet, don't you understand? You belong to me; you are my property, and I take care of you. You could stop this, but isn't it a relief not to be in charge? Let me make decisions about what you'll experience tonight. Give over to the love I have for you, please,” Claire's voice was suddenly thick with emotion and she hurriedly wiped a lone tear from her cheek.

Jamie softened and said, “aye, mo cridhe, you're right. Please don't cry, a gráidh, thank you.“

With that, she reached for the lube and lubed up her free hand. Jamie saw stars when she took his shaft in hand and started massaging it, too. She tugged on his balls and rolled and played with them, happy she'd insisted on taking charge. He always took good care of her and she wanted him to feel loved, cherished and protected, as she always did. 

He sucked in a surprised breath when Claire turned on the massager and then alternated the massage pattern on his cock from just a few fingertips to a tight corkscrew. Jamie felt the familiar tightening of his balls, trying shallow breathing to make the feeling abate – except Claire was now massaging his balls, too, and that wasn't helping him calm down at all, dammit! The way she moved the prostate massager was making him absolutely wild and he wondered what good thing he'd done in a past life to have earned the privilege of his goddess in this life. He stilled when he felt her remove the prostate massager, but good God, there were two fingers, then three, wiggling inside him now. She fucked him with abandon, sending violent spasms of pleasure up his spine.

She removed her fingers and he shouted as Claire slicked up his cock and mounted him, groaning in her own abandon. She set a quick pace, and all Jamie could feel was how hot she was and how her greedy uterus was fluttering in arousal, trying to suck him dry – and he hadn't even come yet.

Claire growled and yanked Jamie's head up, “open your eyes and see how I'm fucking my beautiful property, boy! Watch, damn you, watch your Mistress use you!” His beautiful eyes flew open at her command and glued to their joining place. Claire raised herself up off Jamie's member and slammed down again, groaning in ecstasy, a groan punctuated by a shouted string of Gaelic curses from the fire-haired Scot beneath her.

“Oh, Mistress, Imma goin' ta come. Please let me finish,” he cried brokenly, as her nimble fingers pulled his nipples into sharp peaks and pinched hard, making Jamie shake, driving him to his breaking point once again. She suddenly stopped and started viciously sucking and biting his nipples.

She raised her voice to be heard over his moans, “COME FOR ME, JAMIE. COME FOR ME, MY LOVE!” Claire reached back and pushed two fingers into his ass one final time and crooked both fingers in a “come hither" motion. At the same time, she made the corkscrew motion on the base of his cock.

Jamie screamed an animalistic, inhuman hymn to his magnificent woman as he felt his come explode out of him, so powerful it almost hurt. Rope after rope slammed out of him into her and his back arched of its own accord. He was helpless, at the mercy of his goddess and his body. The last thing he saw were bright white fireworks behind his eyelids and then everything faded to black.

Claire uncuffed him and went downstairs. She grabbed her stethoscope, blood-pressure cuff and a glass of orange juice. She warmed the washcloth again and listened to Jamie's heart. It was somewhat elevated, but nothing to be alarmed about. She took his blood pressure as well, and breathed a sigh of relief. She washed his face and neck and managed somehow to get him under the covers. 

She washed her face and scrubbed all the makeup off and made sure she didn't have oil on her hands anymore. She padded into the bedroom and put on relaxed, loose clothing and stored her precious Louboutins in their closet cubby. She bent over and kissed Jamie's forehead and closed the door quietly.

She sat on the sofa with a glass of water and remembered their first kiss and her pussy clenched in response. 

It was the night they met. Jamie insisted on driving her home, for safety's sake, of course. They bade their friends goodnight and Jamie clasped Claire's hand gently and led her out of the club. Their friends grinned widely at each other and giggled, returning to the dance floor. 

Jamie and Claire stepped out into the cool night air, each breathing a sigh of relief. Jamie indicated where his car was parked and as they turned away from the building, Claire saw that they were about to walk through a very poorly lit part of the alley. Her hand tightened in Jamie's and she stopped. Concerned, Jamie turned to her and said, 

“Claire, what's wrong? Are ye scairt?”

“Yes, honestly. When I was sixteen, I was raped in a dark alley in Khartoum and I never lost the fear of dark stretches of street. I'm sorry.” 

Claire wasn't sure why she'd let that information to the surface. She’d never told any of her friends about it, but this man, there was something so different about him. She felt like she could trust him and that he was strong enough to hear the truth and not make her feel pitiful about it.

Jamie's free hand clenched in a massive fist when he heard her story and he set his jaw, willing himself not to be sick to his stomach. 

“First, thank ye for trusting me with that information. Ye have nothing to apologize for, Claire. Ye were an innocent child. Ye need never be scairt of anything or anyone when I'm with ye, alright? I promise ye, I'll never let anything harm ye, okay? I’ll protect ye with my body, if need be. “ He caressed her cheek reassuringly. “Do ye feel ye can go on now?”

He was glad to feel her hand relax in his and she let out a pent-up breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looked up at him and nodded mutely and he smiled back.

They reached his car and he opened her door and made sure she was comfortable before going to the driver's side. They headed to her house and she invited him in for a nightcap.

“Aye, I'd like that, lass. Thank ye.” She brought out some wine he'd never heard of, Silver Oak, from California's Alexander Valley. They relaxed and started talking, and the hours flew by. She noticed that it was coming up on 2 a.m., and asked Jamie if he wanted to sleep in her guest room, as he'd been drinking. 

“I'd appreciate that, if it won't put you out?”

Claire smiled and said, “Nope! I'll show you the room.”

Jamie was impressed; a king bed and an ensuite bath. Claire showed him where the towels were and showed him where dental supplies, new deodorant and disposable razors were. 

There were even glasses and full bottles of Pellegrino available on the matching nightstands and a 36-unit box of latex-free condoms available.

“Here you are and there's extra blankets in the closet should you need them. There are a couple of brand-new men's t-shirts and boxers in the dresser if you want and washed-in-hot-water clean pajamas as well. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Jamie noticed that there was a bottle of whisky and two tumblers on the dresser. He pulled the drawer open and sure enough, there were the things she'd described. 

“Uh, lass, I've never met a more prepared hostess. Thank ye, truly.”

She saw the rather dazed look on his face, laughed merrily and said, “Oh, I know it seems, um, a little odd. But my friends Frank and Joe, they're a couple and sometimes crash here. I like having the basics ready for my boys! It's a thing of mine.”

Jamie turned to her and said, “It looks perfect, Claire. There is one thing I'd like, though. He smiled shyly and said, “I'd like to kiss ye goodnight. May I?” he asked hopefully.

Claire blushed hotly and swallowed, “Yes, you may, if you like.” 

Jamie stepped up to her and cupped her face in his warm hands and Claire whimpered softly. He kissed her gently and sucked on her bottom lip, asking for entry to her mouth. She parted her lips and Jamie licked and sucked on her tongue. He moaned in arousal and pressed himself against her groin suggestively and she moaned quietly in response. He dropped his hands to her hips and held her steady as he trailed his lips down her throat, kissing and nipping a trail of fire that dripped like lava into her belly and turned into an inferno. She ducked her head and kissed his scruffy jawline, biting him hard enough to leave a mark and elicit an angry hiss. She laved her mark with her tongue. He hoisted her legs around his middle and pulled a handful of curls so the other side of her neck was exposed. He kissed down her neck until he reached her clavicle and bit and sucked his tattoo into her ivory canvas, watching as it spread and darkened. 

“Mine, Sorcha. All for me, do you understand?”

He kissed her deeply again and their tongues slid and dipped in a millenia-old dance. She broke the kiss and stared into his eyes,

“Yes, Jamie, yes! And you,” she kissed his face and neck, “are mine, only mine. I don't share. Do I make myself crystal clear?”

“Aye, Sorcha. Only yours,” he breathed out huskily. He put her down and expected her to leave but she turned around and palmed his cock through his pants and demanded he unzip her. He groaned when he felt her hand rouse his cock. Encouraged, she started squeezing him, which forced him to respond in a strangled whisper, “Sorcha! Stop, you'll make me come in ma pants, please!”

Claire stopped massaging his balls but immediately started grinding her delectable bum into his groin. He groaned and pulled her dress off, allowing it to puddle onto the floor. She stopped her lewd dance only long enough to step out of the dress and then started again, clad in her underthings, the scrap of underwear, the bra, garter belt, fishnets and shoes, the memory of which, he thought, would always make him half-hard. She bent over slowly, allowing the man behind her to gaze longingly at her beautiful backside as she pretended to adjust a shoe. She moaned when she came back up, hands sensuously caressing her thighs 

Jamie tried to exert some control over what was happening to him and picked her up by her upper arms and lifted her vertically, setting her down a step away from him. He then spun her around to face him, still gripping her forearms. He growled lowly in his throat, his eyes feverish with need,

“What the hell do ye think ye're doin', lass?”

Claire smiled and winked at the giant Scot and before he could react, she unbuckled his belt, ripped it from the belt loops and threw it on the floor. She pulled down his jeans and boxers and settled herself on the floor on her knees. She reached behind his cock and fondled his balls gently. Jamie groaned and felt pre-come stain his cockhead. Claire looked up at him with an evil grin and sucked on his cockhead like it was the most delicious lollipop. He whispered raggedly, 

“God, Claire, you little witch!”

Claire released his cock to come up for air. He grabbed a fistful of hair and roughly yanked her head backwards. To his amazement, Claire purred, smiled and dove again onto his helpless member, inhaling him down to the root. He grimaced with concentration, desperately trying to make it last. He readjusted his hands and drove her greedily again and again onto his cock. She massaged his shaft with her tongue and started humming, giving herself free rein to drool over his length. She felt him spasm and draw in a shuddering breath, but he could do nothing except look down with half-lidded eyes and watch himself be consumed, as a match by a flame. He felt his balls tighten up and tried to stop himself from coming but it was useless. Jesus, fuck, she was a sexual Disneyland.

“Sorcha, woman, I'm goin’ ta come!” 

He tried to withdraw so she wouldn't feel forced to keep going, but she let go of his cock with a wet squelch and actually growled, 

“no! no!” and hungrily swallowed him again. She grabbed his ass and pushed him towards her, digging her nails into his sensitive flesh. She writhed her tongue around his almost-drooling member, sucked hard and screamed as best she could. Jamie's knees buckled and he saw stars.

Jamie yelled in warning but couldn't stop himself from thrusting into her thirsty throat. He shouted, 

“Mo chridhe, I'm coming! Oh God, Sorcha!” 

The giant Scot came with a long drawn-out bellow and stood trembling on rubbery knees as aftershocks crackled through his body.

Claire stood up and helped him step out of his pants and sat him on the bed. Next, she simply said, “arms up,” and Jamie, without thinking, obeyed a command used by generations of parents to remove children’s shirts. She poured him a full glass of water and asked him to just sip it slowly.

When Jamie finally felt somewhat normal, he realized how drained he was. He kissed Claire on the cheek, rumbled a sleepy thank-you and climbed under the eiderdown. He was asleep when his head hit the pillow. Claire smiled and picked up his things and hung his clothes in the closet. She put his shoes under his clothes, his wallet, phone and keys on the dresser, kissed his forehead gently and went to bed herself.

9am the next morning

Jamie woke slowly. At first, he didn't remember where he was. He squinted and saw his wallet, phone and keys on the dresser and breathed a sigh of relief. He remembered then. Last night, meeting Claire and being gifted the greatest blowjob of his life. “Jesus, that Godzilla monster belonged in civilization's Blowjob Hall of Fame,” he thought wryly.

He grabbed the full bottle of Pellegrino and chugged it down, grateful for the liquid. He remembered the shower in the ensuite and found a bathrobe in the closet, along with his clothes. He showered, enjoying the steam and hot water coursing down his long body. He was glad to see that the bodywash was scent-free, as were the shampoo and conditioner. He stepped out of the shower and thoroughly toweled himself dry. He found tiny travel-size scent-free deodorants and brushed his teeth. Curious, he looked in the vanity's other drawer and actually found plastic-wrapped combs, a box of zipping plastic bags and a sharpie. He took a bag and put his deodorant and toothbrush inside and wrote his name on it. He left the bag open but pushed it out of the way on the vanity. He combed his hair back, put the comb in the bag, grabbed a fresh t-shirt and boxers and got dressed the rest of the way. He stripped the bed and put the shaken-out eiderdown back on the bed, gathered his towels and brought everything downstairs.

He heard singing downstairs and the smell of dark-roast coffee kissed his nose. 

“Good morning, Claire, did ye sleep well?”

She whirled around and said, “yes, I did, thanks for asking. You? Was the bed supportive enough?”

Jamie pinked slightly and said, “Oh, aye, like a dead man. The bed was great. Where’s the washer? I'll be happy to put these in.”

“Just go over to that door”, she pointed, “and dump them on the floor, please.”

Jamie did as he was bid and said, “I hope ye don’t mind, I used a baggie to store my toothbrush and I nicked a comb.”

“Oh, good! Gosh, I knew there was something I forgot to mention,” Claire smiled. “Would you like breakfast? It would just be bacon, eggs and toast. I don't do fancy.”

“Aye, that sounds wonderful, thank ye.”

“How do you take your coffee, Jamie?”

“Black, Sorcha,” Jamie smiled.

Claire poured the steaming liquid in the Zojirushi carafe and handed Jamie two mugs. One was red and said, ‘Y'all need to calm down,’ and the second was white and had a blond terrier with the hair on top of his head combed into a mohawk. The mug said ‘The Loganator!’ and Jamie laughed at the happy little dog. 

“Who's this, then, Sassenach?”

“Oh, that's my love, Logan. I adopted him from a shelter and had him for twelve years. He was such a sweet dog.”

“And this mug?” Jamie gestured to the red mug.

Claire snickered and said, “Oh, yeah, that's from a friend living in South Carolina, near Greenville.”

They sat down to thick-cut bacon, fried eggs and toast. Jamie couldn't remember the last time he'd been so spoiled. He'd have to send her some really nice flowers when he got home. They talked about everything under the sun. Claire finally found out that ‘Sassenach' was a term for a foreigner or English person in Scotland, and Jamie hastily explained that he'd meant it as a term of endearment. ‘Sorcha' was her name in Gaelic.

She smiled indulgently at him and offered him more coffee. 

“No, thank ye, Sassenach, I must regretfully take my leave.”

He pulled her in close, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. 

“I would like to see you again, Claire. Would ye be interested?”

She blushed the most endearing shade of pink and cleared her throat nervously, 

“Yes, I’d really like that, Jamie. Here's my card. My number is printed legibly on it, you see?” and she pointed.

“Ah, yes, fine, Claire. I willna go blind tryin' to read this!” He smirked saucily and she laughed out loud.

“Alright, Claire, I'll call ye.”

“Jamie?” Claire stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I'd like one thing, though,”

He fixed his piercing eyes on her and rumbled, “Anything, lass.”

“A goodbye kiss,” and she blushed again.

He smiled at her and said, “There's nothing I'd rather do, a leannan.” With that, the handsome man gathered the tiny woman in his massive arms and gave her a kiss she'd not soon forget. It started gently enough, but metamorphosed quickly, mirroring simmering longing he felt for her. He nipped her neck, laved her earlobe and whispered sweet nothings that she didn't understand. Slick wetness dripped out of her womanhood onto her thighs. She opened her mouth and kissed him back, twined her tongue around his, bit him gently and made him hard again. She whispered her want into his mouth and made his knees tremble when he realized she felt for him what he did for her. She sank her ivory fingers into his auburn curls with a sigh of contentedness and pulled gently. He finally realized that he'd end up making love to her if he didn't leave now. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. They both blinked and came back to the world.

“Jesus, Claire, what is this between us? We met yesterday and I can't wait to see, touch and taste you again!"

Claire answered, “I have no bloody clue, Jamie, but I feel like I need you like I need oxygen.”

They stood together, foreheads touching, trying to calm their breathing. Jamie finally stepped back and said, “I‘ll call you,” and was out the door before he could realize his fantasy - bending her over the couch and roughly fucking her until she screamed his name.

***** END OF CLAIRE'S MEMORY *****

An hour later, she'd just ordered a big spread from their favorite Thai restaurant when she heard him calling her with an anxious voice. She ran upstairs quickly, smiling at him propped up in bed. 

“How do you feel, love? She sat down next to him and kissed his cheek and handed him the orange juice.

“Mo chridhe,” what ye did was incredible. I look forward to returning the favor,” Claire laughed as she saw the hungry look in his eyes.

“Ye’ve made me feel braw, relaxed and energized at the same time. ‘Tis verra interestin,' to be sure. But how'd I get under the covers?” he asked, taking a gulp of the juice.

“Um, I huffed and I puffed, pulled, pushed and yanked until I had you ‘right' where I wanted you,” she smirked.

He looked at her, perplexed. “Why'd you have to do that?”

She studied him carefully and said, “Well, you passed out.”

Jamie looked at her like she had two heads. “I passed out from an orgasm?” 

She blushed prettily and said, “Yep. I stimulated your prostate and your cock at the same time. You screamed like a banshee on fire and passed out.” She saw his mouth fall open and helpfully closed it for him.

“Drink some more juice, sweetheart, but don't gulp it. You need the sugar and the fluids.”

He drained the glass slowly and set it on the bedside table and his stomach growled loudly. 

“Do you feel like you can get up to eat, or shall I make you a plate and bring it up?”

“Aye, I can get up. But I want a shower. Do I have time before the food comes?”

Claire gathered the glass and her instruments to take downstairs. “Yep, it'll take them time to get here. You have about 20 minutes, but be careful getting out of bed.”

Jamie slid over to the edge of the bed and gingerly touched the floor with his feet. He rose slowly to his full height and walked carefully to the ensuite. The water felt heavenly and Jamie slowly lathered his body and gave his scalp an invigorating scrub.

Claire smiled at her handsome oh-so-relaxed man as he came downstairs. He headed over to the counter and brought the properly aired wine and poured them both generous glasses.

He raised his glass to her and thanked her for fulfilling his fantasy. The food arrived, and they both ate like they’d eaten nothing for a week. They chose to watch “Robin Hood Men in Tights,” and shouted with laughter at their favorite scenes.

Soon, though, the wine was gone, the movie finished and the leftovers were in the fridge. They walked upstairs and got ready for bed, and Jamie gave Claire a smoldering, toe-curling kiss before they both fell into bed and slept late into Saturday morning.

The next morning, they agreed that pancakes were the breakfast of champions and headed down the block to “The Pancake Joint,” their favorite lunch and breakfast haunt. It was run by Murtagh's aunt, Glenna FitzGibbons, and she always gave them a table in the gazebo if one was available. Glenna came bustling over and advised them she was experimenting with a new mixed breads basket and wanted their opinions on it. Since she was hijacking the pancake idea, breakfast was on the house. Jamie tried to protest, but one look from Glenna made him reconsider and he said a bashful thank-you and sheepishly put his wallet away.

“And I've got some fresh figs and assorted cheese, organically farmed prosciutto from Spain, culled from acorn-fed pigs and blueberry and raspberry preserves. I'll be bringing ye some of that, too!” Claire and Jamie both groaned in delight.

One of the serving ladies brought them a large carafe of coffee and two generous mugs, along with a small cup of fruit salad each.

A few minutes later, they were each “having a moment" with their coffees, and Glenna brought the breads basket and a plate of assorted artisan cheeses and prosciutto, butter from pasture-grazed local cows and the locally sourced preserves. Jamie picked up a Madagascar-vanilla-and- almond scone from the basket and tipped the basket slightly so Claire could see her choices. 

“Go ahead, lass. See anything ye like?” 

She craned her neck, looked into the basket and thought for sure she was seeing things. Nestled in between a fat, lofty croissant and a heavenly smelling warm orange-cranberry scone was a small eggplant-colored box with a smattering of gold stars on the lid. The name on the box was Randall and Abernathy, Claire's friends, Frank and Joe, both gemologist-jewelers who owned a boutique jewelry store together. She looked at Jamie with saucer-like eyes and whispered, 

“Is this what I think it is?”

Jamie smiled and took the box in his hand, opening it to reveal an eggplant-hued velvet box. He opened it carefully and sank to one knee and said,

“Mo chridhe, my life started when I met you. You are the smartest, kindest, most beautiful woman on Earth and the only one for me. Will you marry me and be mine forever? 

A tear trickled out of Jamie's eye, and Claire wiped it away and cupped his face in her tiny hands. She gave him a kiss that set his heart aflame and when they came up for air, she was crying, too. 

“God, yes, Jamie! You're the only one for me, now and forever!” 

He stood up and she got up and launched herself at him. He scooped her up in his arms with a low “oof!” and pulled the ring out of its box. Only then did Claire see how truly breathtaking the ring was. It was a teal-green color-change untreated sapphire that looked bluish when in certain light, flush-set in a wide roughly textured matte yellow gold band with smaller flush-set colorless diamonds orbiting the anchor stone. He slipped it on her ring finger and they hugged and kissed (and she cried), only remembering where they were when Glenna, her staff and the other diners broke out in cheers and applause. Claire blushed violently red and then saw a flame-haired woman in the crowd. 

“Oh, Jamie, Geilis is here!”

“Aye, a leannan, all our friends are,” beamed Jamie. Angus and Laoghire came forward, as did Murtagh and Suzette, Rupert and Joe and Frank. Claire grabbed Joe and Frank both by one lapel each (so firmly the men nearly collided with each other) and exclaimed over her ring and promptly burst into tears again. The men smiled and congratulated her and Jamie, giving them both big hugs. They got congratulatory hugs and kisses from every one of their friends, and Geilis announced that she and Rupert were throwing them an engagement celebration that night. 

Jamie observed that his assessment of Claire as being "built" close to the water,’ held true that Saturday morning. Every time friends came to congratulate them, she started crying again. But Jamie knew they were tears of joy.

The engagement party was fun and relaxing, and Claire had already phoned Ellen and Brian Fraser with the news (and sobbed when talking to Ellen). The wedding was planned for two months hence, at Lallybroch. He was happy that Claire and his mother had become so close, but he sometimes felt a smidge jealous when his mother shooed him away to monopolize Claire or go shopping with her.

Claire woke up several Mondays later and immediately emptied her stomach in the toilet. She didn't think a lot of it – maybe it was that sandwich from the café she'd eaten entirely too quickly yesterday.  
She snorted to herself, “Pfft! At least Jamie's on a business trip so he doesn't have to see this,” she thought ruefully. 

She rinsed her mouth, brushed her teeth and went downstairs to make some peppermint tea. She made herself some dry toast and nibbled at it, happy that she had the day off. She took it easy for the rest of the day, hoping to God this wasn't some kind of stomach bug.

She went back to work on Tuesday and ended up throwing up at work, too. Her back was hurting and she spoke sharply to one of her interns, which she hadn't meant to do. She sought the intern out a while later; Mary Hawkins was her name, and Claire apologized for her rudeness. 

Claire stopped by the grocery store and picked up some soda crackers, organic low-salt chicken broth and organic unsweetened applesauce in case the damn nausea came back. Right as she was steering her cart to checkout, she suddenly remembered she had to get cotton balls. She steered down the aisle, muttering to herself. She finally found her favorite brand and tossed them in the cart, when she spied a square cardboard box. Tampons. She stood there for a minute, wondering why in the world they'd caught her eye, and paled. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh no. Oh God. Why can't I remember my last period,” she whispered to herself. “WHY? I went to 900 years of med school; why can't I keep track of my menses?”

She moved down the aisle to the pregnancy tests, and bought three. Six tests total. Digital, guaranteed to tell you if you're pregnant as soon as five days after your period should've started.

She got home and put the groceries away, trying to force herself to be calm. She grabbed the tests and thought,

“Well, Jamie will be home Friday night. I can take one each day and get a test at the hospital on Friday if these are positive,” she whispered to herself. 

She went upstairs and peed on the little stick. She was on tenterhooks waiting for the timer on her phone to ring. When it finally rang, she jumped and turned the test over, “two. Two pink lines. I'm going to be a mother. Oh my God, what if Jamie doesn't want it?”

On Friday morning, her hopes for a false positive were “gone with the wind,” like Tuesday in that Lynrd Skynrd song. Every fucking test was positive. Every. Single. One. 

Claire stopped by Obstetrics and was relieved to see that her colleague and friend, Dr. Hildegarde Richelieu, was in her office. Claire glanced around, making sure none of her friends were in the corridor. She closed the door behind her and looked at her friend of many years. She was about to start talking when she decided to speak French, as none of their other friends at the hospital did.

“Hild, I need a favor on the down-low. Can you run a pregnancy test on me?”

The older woman’s handsome face broke into a smile and she said, “of course, ma cherie! Do you want it done now? And do you know when your last cycle was?”

Claire blushed a fiery red and looked down at her crocs, “um, I think it was about eight weeks ago, now. Is a test now too much bother? I can wait if it'd be better later.”

“No, of course not. I have 45 minutes before my next appointment and the woman is getting ready to have her sixth child. There isn't a lot of new information I can give her,” Hildegarde smiled, ushered Claire into the adjoining exam room and handed her a specimen cup. Claire used the ensuite restroom to gather the sample and then the waiting game began. Claire was in back in Hildegarde's office with her friend when Hildegarde's office phone rang,

“Yes? Oh, hi there, Roger,” Hildegarde listened intently and then ended the call. “well, it seems congratulations are in order, my dear. You are definitely with child,” Hildegarde beamed and pulled her now-crying young friend into a firm embrace. 

Claire gratefully accepted the proffered tissue and Hildegarde pulled up her schedule, “I want to see you next week, and start taking prenatal vitamins. Here’s a script. I know you know this, but you need to limit your coffee intake to one cup of decaf per day. Get plenty of rest and start drinking lots of water and whole milk, alright? And congratulations again!” she smiled as Claire left.

Claire managed to finish out her shift at noon and went home after picking up her vitamins from the hospital pharmacy, some fruit, veg and whole milk. She came through the door and looked at their home with new eyes. There was so much to babyproof! And they'd probably have to think about moving, anyway. The master bedroom was spacious, but their shared study was about as big as a postage stamp. And a glass coffee table and end tables? They'd have to go, for sure. She unpacked her groceries and sipped a mug of warm milk in the kitchen. She started to get sleepy from the milk and headed upstairs, intending to simply lie down for a while. How was she going to break the news to Jamie? Suddenly, she knew. She ran downstairs and grabbed the box of prenatal vitamins and headed to the closet where gift-wrapping supplies lived. She chose blue paper to wrap the pills, white tissue paper and a red gift bag. She placed the bag on the table next to Fraser Distillery's crown jewel, an anniversary edition 25-year old single malt whisky aged in charred American oak casks from Jack Daniel's in Tennessee. She curled some wide green ribbon and tied it around the bottle's neck. She set Jamie's favorite cut crystal whisky tumbler next to the bottle and headed upstairs.

She laid down on the bed and covered herself with her favorite blanket and was out like a light. When she woke, she heard Cannonball Adderley playing and knew Jamie was home. She splashed cold water on her face and made her way downstairs. 

Jamie heard her light footsteps and strode across the room, capturing her in his arms with a deep kiss, “Ah, leannan, there ye are. You're a beautiful sight for sore eyes! I went to find ye, but you were so peaceful I didn't want to disturb yer rest. How was work today?”

“Work? Oh, I had to lengthen a tendon in a little five-year-old’s girl's leg so she can develop normally and keep walking. She has a mild case of Cerebral Palsy, which can affect motor skills. She'll be fine, though. I checked up on her before coming home and she had five visitors and about 30 stuffed animals to keep her company.” Claire turned around to get some water from the fridge but was overtaken by a violent wave of nausea that made her clutch the kitchen sink and throw up all over again. She rinsed her mouth and staggered upstairs to brush her teeth.

She came downstairs again after trying to clean the gross out of her mouth. Jamie took her into his arms carefully and said, “what's the matter, a gráidh, are you ill?” He searched her face worriedly and handed her a wet paper towel for her face and a glass of water. 

“No, I'm fine, I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me,” Claire lied. “How was the trip?” 

“It was brilliant. We got some new distributors for the San Francisco Bay Area, which will be great. Those folks know their whiskey, and they don't kid around about their food, either. It seemed like every place I ate, including from food trucks, would brag on their farm-to-table culture. But, I'm happy to be back home, my love. By the way, what's all this on the table? Is it someone's birthday?”

“Nope, but that is a present for you, Darling. Go ahead, open it.” Claire sat next to him and watched him turn the bag this way and that, remarking on the strange rattle and the Fraser colors.

Jamie plunged his hand into the bag and drew out the blue-wrapped box, and shook it. “It sounds like pills, like horse pills,” he peered cautiously at her, “are ye tryin' ta tell me sumthin, my heart?” he wheedled. Claire just grinned at him but didn't utter a peep. 

He finally tore off the wrapping and turned the bottle around so he could see what “horse pills" were inside. Claire saw him read the label, his eyebrows knotting, looking like rival red fuzzy caterpillars spoiling for a fight. Claire saw the exact moment the penny dropped and it wasn't something she'd ever forget.

“Sorcha,” he said slowly and deliberately, his mouth trembling as he struggled to get the words out in a voice thick with emotion, “are ye with bairn, then?” Jamie's eyes were saucers and he was pale, one shaking hand covering his gaping mouth. 

“Yes, Darling, you're going to be a Da,” Claire felt tears well up when she saw Jamie's radiant smile. 

“Me, a Da and you, a Mam!” Happy tears coursed down his face and he enveloped Claire in his arms and lifted her up gently, holding her while she cried, too.

Jamie sat down on the couch with Claire still wrapped around him like a greedy barnacle. He rocked her and rubbed her back and she peppered kisses on his neck.

“Do ye know how far along ye are?”

“I think I'm about 8 weeks along, but we'll need to do an ultrasound to know for sure. I was thinking that we could present your parents with a framed ultrasound image to tell them. What do you think?”

“That's a bonnie idea, Sassenach. My mam will be beside herself and Jenny, too,” Jamie mused, “it's good the wedding is soon, aye?”

“Yes, I think so. By the way, the first ultrasound is next Friday at 11:00 a.m. Do you think you can make it?” 

“I'll text John to clear my schedule from 10 a.m. on, okay?”

Claire smiled at him and gave him a thumbs-up. 

Claire had moved next to Jamie and said, “I think we should toast the Wee Bean, how about that, Da-to-be?” Jamie grinned and got Claire some milk and himself a healthy whiskey.

They chanted in unison, “to the Wee Bean!” and each drank deeply. Jamie shifted on the couch and looked Claire in the face,”I know it's not far along, yet, Sorcha, but I have to crow to someone, or I'll burst! Do ye mind if I ask Murtagh over tonight for a wee dram?”

“Oh, that's lovely!” Jamie's burly, taciturn godfather had the proverbial heart of gold and he and Claire had developed quite their own friendship. Seized by inspiration, Claire ventured, “Jamie, what if we ask him to be the baby's godfather and Suzette the godmother?” Murtagh had turned to Claire for help choosing gifts for Suzette, his girlfriend. They'd met the same night as Jamie and Claire and been together since that night, too.

“That's a great idea, Sassenach,” and Jamie kissed her cheek. He rang up his godfather and asked the two of them to come over to discuss some marketing strategies. The doorbell rang ten minutes later and the four of them settled in the livingroom.

Claire sipped on her water and watched, amused, as Jamie poured Murtagh and himself generous whiskies, while Suzette drank some Rhenish, just in from her native France, sent by Jamie's cousin Jared.

Murtagh's gray eyes narrowed as he realized Claire wasn't drinking, because he knew she loved Fraser whisky and could drink most men under the table without batting an eye.  
Ever-patient with his godson, Murtagh bided his time. He could see something had Jamie terribly excited but he didn't want to rush the lad. And why was the 25-year old whisky out?

Jamie cleared his throat, “Ah, Murtagh, I don' really have business to discuss with ye tonight,” Murtagh saw unshed tears in his godson's eyes and became alarmed,

“Out wi' it, mo mhac, what is it?” 

Claire reached across the table and took Murtagh's giant paws in her delicate hands, “we're going to have a baby, Murtagh, what do you think about that?” 

Murtagh stared at the woman he'd come to regard as a daughter, 

“A baby? Och, Claire, mo nighean, that's wonderful!” 

Murtagh came around to her and helped her stand and enveloped her in a very careful hug and Suzette cheered and gave Jamie a warm hug and then kissed Claire and Jamie got a bear hug and congratulatory handshake from Murtagh. Jamie proposed a toast to his the mother of his child and Murtagh and Suzette chimed in,

“hear hear,” and took a long draught of their drinks.

“There's one more thing we have to discuss wi' you two,” Jamie started, and fixed gray eyes with his blue, “we'd be very pleased if ye'd become the bairn's goistidh and bana-goistidh, too. What do you say?”

Murtagh's mouth opened and closed and he looked from Claire to Jamie. He finally remembered to close his mouth, and they both saw tears in his eyes. He blew his nose into his cotton handkerchief and coughed, collecting himself, “aye, I'd be very honored, I thank ye both.”

“Ban-quoi?” Suzette looked at all three in confusion. 

Murtagh laughed and said, “they're asking ye to become the baby’s godmother, mo cridhe.”

“Ahhh, oui, quelle surprise! Merci beaucoup!” Suzette chirped and burst into tears. Murtagh hugged her and Claire ran to get her a tissue.

“We only found out today, so we'll ask ye to keep this close to yer vest, please. Claire thinks she's aboot two months along, but we'll go for an ultrasound next week.”

Claire stood up and faced everyone,

“I do have one request – I would love for our child to be fluent in Gaelic and French. That means speaking, reading and writing. Suzette, you and I can teach French and the men will take care of the Gaelic, with help from Jamie's family. What say ye?” 

Jamie and Murtagh burst out in snickers and giggles at her atrocious attempt at their accent. Suzette smiled, thinking of all the French-language books she now had an excuse to buy – for educational purposes, naturellement! Murtagh wouldn't be able to say no to that!

The three of them looked at each other and grinned, raised their glasses and toasted Claire, 

“Aye!” 

Claire and Jamie sat together in the OB/GYN's office waiting for their first scan. Finally, they were called, and they held hands as they walked into Exam 1. Claire saw that the tech was her friend, Marsali MacKimmee, and smiled and Marsali grinned her hello. Jamie helped her get into her gown and onto the exam table. 

”Okay, girlie, I know you know the drill, but I'm goin' ta explain it to the civilian, here.” Marsali jerked her thumb in Jamie's direction and grinned. Jamie blushed and Claire laughed, and the tension in the room evaporated. The tech apologized for the cold gel, and smeared a liberal amount on Claire's stomach. Claire breathed deeply and tried to relax. Jamie stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, listening to the clicking and computer noises as Marsali got everything ready. She picked up the wand and started moving it around, explaining to Jamie that finding the baby was sometimes akin to “where's Waldo?” at which he laughed out loud. Claire grunted, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she thought, “the fucking wand’s doing a number on my goddamn full bladder." Marsali kept moving the wand and then stopped and peered closely at the screen. 

“Hmmmm. Will you excuse me for one second? I'll be right back.” Jamie and Claire looked at each other with fearful eyes and squeezed the hand of the other. A few minutes passed, and Hildegarde swept in, followed closely by Marsali. 

“Hello, cherie! I just want to take a quick peek here, okay? And hello, Jamie.” She smiled at Jamie and he felt peace wash over himself when he looked into her kindly eyes.

Hildegarde picked up the wand and passed it over Claire a few more times. “See, Claire, there's your baby,” she smiled and Claire could see a tiny dot, and tears pricked her eyes. Jamie kissed her head and squeezed her hand reassuringly as he started to tear up as well. “She turned towards Jamie and said with a grin, “Jamie, if you look just below Claire's baby, you'll see your baby.”

“I'll what? My - ? what? I’m not preg - ” Jamie glanced at the woman who was like a surrogate mother to his Claire, trying to figure out if she was joking and paled. He looked wildly at Claire, who had clapped her hand over her open mouth. Jamie started crying so hard he could barely see Claire, whispering hoarsely, “it's t-t-twins, Sorcha. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you've gifted us twins, mo chridhe.”

Claire started crying in earnest and opened her arms for a hug from Jamie. He moved towards her, but she jumped when she heard a great crash and Jamie slithered out of sight as if in slow motion. She struggled to a sitting position and saw her giant of a man had fainted dead away, taking the rolling table and all the instruments with him. 

Ten minutes later, Jamie was sitting with his head between his legs and trying to regain his composure, tears of shock and joy painting the worn linoleum floor. Claire had been cleaned up, got dressed and rubbed Jamie's broad back to soothe him. 

Hildegarde had given them five copies of the picture (and an extra for herself) and explained that Claire was about 9 weeks along. They had listened to the babies' heartbeats, like miniature colts running in a pasture at Lallybroch, and cried all over again.

They pulled out of the parking lot and Claire was suddenly ravenous. “Honey, can we get lunch? Are you at all hungry?”

“Oh, aye, Sorcha. Good news always makes me hungry.”

They drove to their favorite pub and Claire ordered roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with peas, mashed potatoes and water, thank you very much. Jamie ordered fish and chips and drank a creamy-headed Guinness alongside. The food was delicious, but they ate quietly, not speaking much. Both were lost in their own thoughts, processing the incredible news.

They stopped at the store and picked up some groceries (including decaf coffee and tea for Claire) and then drove home in companionable silence.

Thirty minutes later, Claire padded upstairs and fell asleep immediately. Jamie finished his whisky and followed her upstairs. She murmured sleepily when he got into bed and he kissed her forehead reverently.

Claire woke alone and listened to the silence of the house. Her thoughts turned again to the children in her womb. Good lord, children. She couldn't remember her Uncle Lamb saying anything about multiple births in the family and wondered if their were any in Jamie's family.

She rose, pulled on her sweats and the t-shirt Jamie had lost to her about 9 months ago and went downstairs. She was surprised Jamie wasn't home but found a note on the table that read,  
“Hello my darling Mam-to-be,  
I hope you slept well. I've gone for a run and will be back soon. I have my cellphone with me.”  
xx  
Your loving Da-to-be” 

Claire sighed, grabbed a pencil and wrote the date on the back of the note along with “We found out we were having twins today!” and placed it in her jewelry box upstairs. She was resolved to get a baby box to keep things like this for her children because she had so little from her parents. 

She sat down with a glass of water and told the Echo Dot to play from the Jazz Hangover playlist, thinking back to how their relationship progressed. She remembered a night in particular when she'd made plans with Marsali for an after-work drink. Jamie and Fergus, Marsali's boyfriend, were going to meet them a little later for dinner. Fergus was director of marketing for all Francophone countries. She and Marsali were sitting at a booth chatting about the disasters that were the new interns and Claire choked on her drink at one of Marsali's dead-on imitations. Suddenly the light next to their booth was partially blocked by two large men, one blond- and one black-haired. “Say, lassies, how about you let us buy you another drink,” the blond man suggested, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Claire looked straight at both men and said, 

“no, thanks, our boyfriends are meeting us here in a few, but thanks, anyway.”

The black-haired man said, “aw, come on, ladies, we're jus' tryin' ta be friendly!”

Marsali could smell cold cigarettes and old beer on him, a smell she knew all too well. Her father had been a raging alcoholic until he died at forty-three. She wrinkled her nose distastefully. In typical fashion, she snarked,

“Did ye no' hear my friend? Can’t ye see we're having a good time without ye? Pish off, ye ugly wankers!” 

The men grumbled and went back to their own tables.

Claire signaled for the check and the women went to stand outside the bar for their men.

“Plaaah,” Marsali stuck out her tongue, “Yuck, that bloke smelled like my Da. That's not a smell ye ever forget.”

“Oh, God, I know. Sort of like dead bodies,” Claire agreed.

The two friends stood outside enjoying a mild and dry night. They were talking about their men when the blond- and black-haired friends exited the bar, saw Claire and Marsali and immediately tried to get them to come inside with them for another beer.

“We told you no before, and the answer's not changed. What about ‘no thank-you’ do you not understand?” fumed Claire in her most biting tone. 

The blond snapped, “Weel, lassie, I don't like ‘no', see? If ye don' want a drink, mebbe ye'll like somethin' else I can give ye.” The man grabbed her arms and started to drag a struggling Claire into the alley behind the bar.

Marsali was grabbed by the dark-haired man and pulled her behind the bar where his friend had taken Claire. She tried to scream, but he punched her in the stomach and he used her shock to shove a handkerchief deep into her throat, silencing her. He proceeded to try to get underneath her skirt but Marsali was fighting too hard.

Jamie and Fergus came around the corner, chatting and laughing. They were both happy they'd decided on finally leaving work and looked forward to seeing “their lassies.”

Claire's assailant was trying to get under her dress and slapped her, hissing, “This'll be fun for you, too, if you stop fighting it, lass. That's what happens, every time.” 

“help! Help me!” Claire screamed. 

Jamie and Fergus heard screams and started running toward the bar and Jamie realized with horror that it was Claire who was screaming. He bellowed, “Claire!” like a man possessed and ran faster, Fergus hot on his heels.

Jamie saw her struggling with her assailant and snarled, “I'll thank ye to take yer hands OFF my wife!” Jamie spun the big man around and the next thing Claire knew, Jamie had sent his fist crashing into the blond's face. Jamie hit the man so hard that the man's head bounced off the opposite brick wall and two teeth flew out of the drunkard's mouth. Jamie hauled him up and growled, “so ye like abusing women, do ye? Here, let me show you what it feels like!” and Jamie kicked and beat the man until he was a bloody, whimpering mess. He would have gladly killed the man, but was pulled off the assailant by three burly bar patrons before he could finish the job, shouting, “No! No! He touched my woman! Let me finish the bastard!” 

Fergus spun Marsali's assailant around and punched him in the gut. The man let out a pained “oof!” and got up and tried to attack Fergus, who used his Tae Kwon Do to further humiliate the man. When the assailant saw what'd happened to his friend, he took off running.

Fergus gently prised the handkerchief out of Marsali's throat and asked a bystander to get the ladies some water. He hugged his girl fiercely and whispered to her how much she meant to him. She shook silently in his strong arms, her tears baptizing his shirt sleeve.

The only thing that calmed Jamie was Claire wrapping her arms around him as she burst out sobbing.

“Claire, I'm here now. He won' hurt ye anymore, do ye hear me, mo chridhe? I'm sorry I couldn't stop him earlier, love.” Jamie blinked back tears of anger and enveloped her in the safety of his arms. Only then did he feel some of her tension dissipate.

Claire hiccupped and swallowed and said, “You couldn't have known, Jamie. I've been here dozens of times and nothing like that has ever happened.” 

She started crying afresh when he stroked her hair and whispered soothing Gaelic words in her ear. His heart broke for her and for Marsali. All they'd wanted was to go and have a drink and they'd been assaulted. What was this, the 18th century?

Two ambulances arrived along with the police, and the now-unconscious assailant's stretcher was pulled up to full height, waking him. The next thing he saw was Jamie stalking toward him with bloodied hands and the giant redhead's thunderous, hate-filled face. The man on the stretcher screamed in terror and passed out again. A police officer quickly stepped in front of Jamie and said, 

“You’ve protected yer lady as best ye could, lad. Ye did a mighty fine job, from the looks o' him. Leave the puir bugger be, aye?” 

Jamie clenched his hands into fists and said, “Aye, Officer. Thank ye.”

Claire and Marsali gave their statements and were examined by the medical personnel from the second ambulance and given the all-clear to go. The police had said that they would be contacted about filing charges. Jamie and Fergus were informed that no charges would be filed against either one of them. Claire and Marsali hugged and cried in each others' arms, which was very hard for their men to witness. Jamie and Claire went home and he called the hospital, advising them that Claire wouldn't be back until the following Monday.

About eight weeks later, Claire and Marsali entered a courtroom hand-in-hand and testified with the other witnesses against the would-be rapists. The men were suspected in a string of similarly violent attacks in the suburbs of Edinburgh. They got ten years without the possibility of parole and both women were satisfied that justice was served.

***** END OF CLAIRE'S MEMORY *****

Jamie and Claire traveled to Lallybroch the next weekend to break the news to his family. They'd taken three of the photos and framed them, one for Jenny and Ian, one for Murtagh and Suzette and one for Brian and Ellen. The entire family was gathered around the dining room table, groaning with food from the farm. During dessert, Jamie and Claire called Ellen's longtime right hand, Mrs. Crook, into the dining room with everyone, served her pie, ice cream and coffee and got ready to present the photos. 

Jamie stood and toasted his wife, saying, “My Claire and I are happy to announce that we're pregnant!"

Mrs. Crook's hand flew to her mouth and she gasped in delight. Brian choked on his homemade Lallybroch-blackberry pie, “Claire, yer with child! Congratulations, you two!” Ellen teared up and gave Claire and Jamie kisses. Jenny screamed in delight, and Ian hugged Claire gently and gave Jamie a bear hug.

“Alright, Brian and Ellen, here's your gift. But don't open it yet, wait for Ian and Jenny and Murtagh and Suzette. Ian and Jenny, here's yours. Suzette and Murtagh, please. Okay, open them!”

Claire and Jamie smiled when Brian slowly rotated the frame 360 degrees, trying to figure out what he was looking at. 

“Brian, here, let me show you, husband.” Ellen pointed out their newest grandchild to Brian. 

Murtagh squinted at the photo, paled and sat down weakly, passing the photo to Suzette with shaking fingers.

Just then, Jenny looked at the photo suspiciously. “Ian, what de ye see there? It's another wee bump below th – OH MY GOD, YE'RE HAVING TWINS!” in glee and ran to Jamie and jumped in his arms and promptly burst out crying.

Loud congratulations followed and Claire watched proudly as her man received one-armed good wishes from everyone, as his sister hadn't thought to let go of him yet.

Ellen was sobbing at the table hugging Mrs. Crook and Brian's chest was puffed out in pride for his son and almost-daughter-in-law. Murtagh's mouth was open and Suzette had fat, happy tears running down her face.

Claire spent time with the women, getting their advice about pregnancy and how to make the entire process easier or at least more bearable. They knew Claire'd lost her parents in a violent car crash, only five years old at the time and were glad to offer advice. 

Later that night, Jamie and Claire asked Ian and Jenny to be the second set of godparents to the children. Ian teared up and Jenny burst out crying and hugged Claire tightly. Ian shook his brother-in-law's hand and clapped him on the back and said they'd be honored.

Jamie spent time with his father and Ian, helping them repair things on the estate, discussing marketing and promotional ideas for the family business. Jamie wished they could move to the estate but knew having a presence close to major transportation and shipping ports, not to mention a large population, was crucial to the future of Lallybroch. They decided to refurbish a cottage down the way for Jamie and his family for visits. It wasn't large, but they drew up plans for a three-bedroom, two-bath cottage.

The weekend was great fun, but Claire found she was relieved to be heading home on Sunday. They’d be up again in three weeks to be wed. Claire had her dress ready and had left Jamie no choice other than his kilt for the ceremony. The invitations had even requested gentlemen wear their clans' tartans.

Their wedding day dawned bright and cloud-free. Jamie and Claire had spent their last night as singles without each other. Jamie was getting ready at Ian and Jenny's, and Claire and Geilis were in the main house. Jamie and Ian arrived at the village church ten minutes before Claire and Geilis. What Jamie didn't know was that Murtagh was going to walk his Sorcha down the aisle. She and Murtagh kept it as a special surprise for him.

Jamie made his way to the altar, looking resplendent in his dress regalia. Claire had given Jamie gold cufflinks as a groom's present that had the Fraser family crest and motto carved on the face, “Je Suis Prest,” ‘I am ready.’ Jamie was really pleased with the cufflinks as he thought he'd never have his own set. Now Jamie had a set very similar to his father's. 

Claire gave Murtagh a simple gold signet ring with the Fraser shield and motto as a thank-you for all his help. He choked up when he opened it, and Suzette hugged him and mouthed “perfect!” to Claire. Brian had told Claire Murtagh would love one but didn't want to spend the money.

Claire's present from Jamie was a sapphire-and-diamond bracelet to match her other pieces. She cried (of course) when she opened it, Jenny gently scolding her not to ruin her face.

Jamie watched the tiny church fill up with family and friends and was relieved to see that “The Edinburgh Wild Ones,” a.k.a. Claire's hospital friends and even Hildegarde, Glenna and Marsali had all made it up.

Jamie straightened up as the church doors were closed and the music started. Ian and Geilis entered first, she in a sleek pale-green chiffon dress that matched her eyes and he in his dress regalia. Her bridesmaid's gift from Claire was a rose-cut emerald surrounded by white diamonds on a gold chain and matching earrings. Ian's gift was a set of gold cufflinks with the Murray family crest and motto on them.

Then, there was his goddess, walking, nay, floating, down the aisle on Murtagh's arm! His eyes misted with tears. She wore her sapphire jewelry, and a lump arose in his throat as he saw that she wore a rosette of Fraser colors on her right shoulder to match his own kilt. Claire was breathtaking and her ivory silk dress perfectly complimented her complexion. Her veil was delicate lace and Jamie could make out English roses and Scottish thistles. He found out later that his Mam had embroidered “Je Suis Prest” on a fichu of antique lace from her grandmother. Claire wore it in the bodice of her dress. 

Murtagh held her tiny hand gently and confidently walked her to Jamie and shook his godson's hand, 

“Ye’ll take good care o' our lass, aye, dalta-baistidh?” 

“Aye, goistidh, I will, I promise,” Jamie said, smiling at Murtagh.

Murtagh gently placed Claire's hand on Jamie's and sat down next to Brian.

The ceremony was beautiful and when the priest asked who was giving away the bride, Murtagh stood up and boomed, 

“In the name of Henry and Julia Beauchamp, I do!” 

and Jamie saw that he was crying. Claire's heart swelled with love when Jamie slipped her slender wedding ring on her finger. She did the same for him, willing her shaking fingers to stay steady enough so she could slide the wide gold band that matched her bridal set onto his finger. He’d wanted a wide band, because he wanted to proclaim that he was loved; he was Claire's man, now and forever. Jamie gently lifted Claire's veil, and the priest said to them, 

“You may kiss,” and they joined themselves physically for the first time as man and wife. The kiss was slow and sweet, heady and decadent, like champagne bubbles racing each other to the surface of a swan-necked glass sparkling under a crystal chandelier. They forgot time and heard nothing around them because it was simply perfect.

The three of them turned to the congregation, and the priest announced, “Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to introduce, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. James Fraser!”

Their friends and family broke out in thunderous cheers and applause. Jamie and Claire followed the priest down the aisle and waited for their friends and family to exit the church. Jamie grasped Claire's hand and stepped outside, guiding his wife down the stairs. They both ducked their heads as their guests opened birdseed sachets and tossed it above their heads, cheering them in the bright morning. They found the coupe they'd rented and their driver, and asked him to take them to the cottage so Claire could change into her reception dress. Suddenly Claire laughed and pointed to the back bumper – someone had tied tin cans to it!

The reception was at Lallybroch, and since it was such a beautiful day, a large tent had been erected where lunch was served. Claire and Jamie ate their fill of lamb and filet mignon raised on the farm, local cheeses, vegetables, fruit and bread. As lunch was cleared away by efficient, noiseless, bow-tied waiters, Jamie and Claire stood up before the cake was served and Jamie tapped his fork on his glass, cleared his throat and started to speak,

“My wife, and I,” he smiled gently at Claire, “would like to thank everyone for coming. It's been our honor and privilege to host ye here today. We'd especially like to thank our parents for letting such a rowdy bunch onto their property!” Jamie grinned and Claire laughed at the clapping, stomping and whooping coming from their guests.

Claire cleared her throat and spoke, “Jamie and I have an announcement,” she said giddily, and looked at her husband and took his hand in hers. He squeezed her hand and they announced in unison, “we're pregnant!” a hush fell over the room for a split second and they heard several gasps as the room exploded in a maelstrom of congratulations. 

Jamie tapped his glass again to get the guests' attention and when they'd quieted down said with a gleeful shout, “and one more thing, or should I say two more things… it's twins, due in October!” The momentary silence was deafening and the newlyweds saw that many guests' mouths hung open, or that they leaned over to their tablemate and asked if they'd heard correctly. An avalanche of shouted congratulations echoed back to Jamie and Claire and the Frasers left the dais to celebrate with their guests. They got hugged and kissed and backs were slapped in joy. 

Ellen’s youngest brother Dougal slapped him on the back and shook his hand, “Jamie, lad, yer a beast! Two at once!” Jamie grinned and shook Dougal's hand in thanks. Her eldest brother Colum and his wife Leticia congratulated them both and Leticia complimented Claire on how well she looked. 

Jamie and Claire returned to the dais and the new husband asked the crowd to charge their glasses and toast his wife, which they did resoundingly. 

Claire stood and signaled for quiet, affected her best southern drawl and congratulated her husband, “Now, that there was some mighty fine shootin,' Tex!” She burst out laughing as Jamie blushed ten shades of red and dipped Claire for a scorching kiss, much to the delight of those assembled.

When people returned to their tables, wedding cake was served. It was white cake with fresh Lallybroch strawberries and Lallybroch whipped cream on the bottom tier. Dark chocolate cake swirled with unsweetened peanut butter (Jamie’s favorite) and dark chocolate icing graced the middle tier. The third tier was lemon cake infused with Lallybroch lavender and it was iced with decadent Italian cream. The cakes had been custom-made by Kneadful Things Bakery by Jenny's elfin friend, Jasmine. Jasmine was the family's go-to baker and supplied cake and cupcakes for every festive occasion. The family swore that Jasmine got her scrumptious ideas directly from the universe. Specially ordered vanilla bean ice cream made with Lallybroch full-fat cream complemented the cake and there was a generous assortment of after-dinner drinks to choose from. Mrs. Crook wisely thought ahead and made sure to put two plates of food and two each of the cake slices back for Claire and Jamie for later in the main house fridge.

The dancing started after everyone had eaten. Claire danced the first dance with Murtagh, who was a surprisingly graceful dancer for someone his size. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as Jamie cut in. They swayed and turned, kissed and whispered sweet words to each other as the world fell away. 

Too soon, the DJ announced that it was time to get the party started and that,

“This first song was at the express request of the bride and groom because it was playing when Jamie first clapped eyes on his wonderful wife.” 

The Edinburgh Wild Ones all cheered and ran onto the floor as Mark Ronson's “Uptown Funk," featuring Bruno Mars, started. Claire cut a rug with Brian, and Jamie whirled and swayed with Jenny, both laughing their heads off at one another. Ian and Ellen took to the floor too, and Ian remembered that Brian had told him how she'd exhausted him at clubs when they were young, dancing into the wee hours of the morning.

After the song stopped and “The Girl from Ipanema" was playing, Jamie walked up to the DJ and handed him a slip of paper. The DJ smiled and nodded and Jamie went back to dance with Geilis, Rupert and Claire. As soon as “The Girl from Ipanema" ended, the DJ made an announcement, “This song goes out to Claire from Jamie!” 

Claire laughed out loud as she heard The Rolling Stones' “Start Me Up" ooze out of the speakers and crooked her index finger in a “come hither" motion to her new husband. He crossed the dancefloor and swept her up in a toe-curling kiss, settling her in his arms and twirling her around, much to her delight. He put her down carefully and they danced through that song and many others. They'd made sure that the DJ had a good mix of music, so that the older guests could enjoy themselves, too. He pulled Claire onto the floor for Nat King Cole's “Unforgettable,” and saw his parents and others in their generation smile when they heard it. He saw Dougal and Glenna dancing closely and smiled to himself. He saw Angus and Laoghire, Frank and Joe all dancing and mingling. There were Jenny and Ian over in a far corner, snogging like wild beasties… Willy, from the bar where Claire and he'd met, was the guest of honor and he was dancing with a stunning dark-skinned woman draped in a magnificent dark purple floor-length gown.

Later that night, Jamie helped Claire out of her dress and into comfortable sweats and his t-shirt. He changed as well, and they went downstairs to enjoy a nightcap. The boys were in bed, and the family finally relaxed in front of the fire in the parlor. Claire asked her husband (her husband!) if he were hungry. He rumbled,

“Always, Sassenach,” and bade her sit so he could get a snack ready for them. Claire hadn't realized how hungry she was until Jamie set her plate on her lap. She dug in with gusto and had finished her whole plate before Jamie was half-done with his. Jamie looked down at the clean plate and laughed, “Well, welcome to the clean-plate club, mo cridhe! Congratulations!” 

Claire grinned at her husband and said, “well, a membership is free when you're eating for three!” Jamie snorted and choked on his whisky, and Jenny glanced at Claire with mirth-filled eyes and gave her a high-five, crowing,

“Yeeeeeeeesssss! A twofer!” Jenny crowed triumphantly.

Everyone broke out in laughter at that and conversation continued for a while until Jenny caught her brother's eye. She pointed to Claire and mimicked two hands under her head for sleep. Instead of waking her, he simply gathered her up in his strong arms and carried her carefully to bed. He removed her slippers, tucked her into bed and went to brush his teeth. He closed the ensuite door and flipped on the light, which caught his ring, still heavy and foreign on his finger. He rubbed it reverently and said a heartfelt prayer that his Lord Jesus extend His sheltering, protective hand over his Claire and their children.

Claire's pregnancy progressed normally for the next four months. She loved knowing that she was carrying Jamie's offspring and Jamie marveled at how round she was getting, a sign that the babies were growing. He couldn't keep his hands off her belly or his lips off her breasts. He cried the first time he felt one of the babies kicking, only to be surprised into gleeful laughter when the other baby kicked on the other side of Claire's womb.

Claire made another appointment with Hildegarde and met Jamie at the office. He held her hand during the exam, hoping they'd get good news. Hildegard explained since this was a multiple birth that if the babies stayed where they were until the 38th week, that would be considered a very good outcome. She advised Claire to rest a lot and elevate her feet and not to engage in very physical activity. She needed to be careful picking objects up and climbing stairs should be done in a relaxed manner.

One morning, as September faded into October and the leaves started changing, Claire and Jamie lay in bed, hands intertwined. It was the 38th week, October 12th. Other than feeling Braxton-Hicks contractions every once in a while, Claire was feeling as well as expected. At this point, she wasn't sure if she had feet any more, and all she wanted was for the babies to get out of her body. She disentangled herself from Jamie and struggled to a sitting position, preparing to go take a shower. Suddenly she felt like something dislodged and a wet trickle run down her leg. She gasped, and Jamie rubbed his eyes and asked,

“Sorcha? Is everything ok?”

“Um, well, I think my water just broke and these babies want to come, Jamie. Can you help me into the shower?”

“Aye, here we go, love.” Jamie picked her up and deposited her on the toilet and started a shower for her. Claire cleaned herself and shampooed and conditioned her hair and called Jamie when she was ready to get dressed. He gripped her arm firmly and guided her to the bedroom. She saw he'd changed the bedclothes and laid out a loose dress, a maternity bra, a maxi pad and underwear for her on the bed. She focused on getting dressed but needed help with the underwear. Jamie was only too happy to help her with that, and she rolled her eyes and giggled.  
Jamie helped her to the car and made sure she was comfortable before grabbing the babies' and Claire's bags.

Jamie parked the car in front of the emergency doors, picked Claire up in his arms and she protested, 

“Honey, I can walk! My legs aren't broken.“ 

He shushed her with, “Hush, woman! Let me do this!” and strode to the admitting desk. The nurse at the reception desk looked up at the huge man cradling his very pregnant wife, smiled and greeted Claire, 

“So it's time, is it, Claire? Congratulations! Let me get a chair for you.”

“Thanks Christie, I appreciate it. Long time no see. How are you?”

“I'm well, thanks. Husband and the kids are eating me out of house and home,” smiled the nurse, winking at Claire.

Claire gave her information and when the chair came, Jamie stubbornly refused the orderly's help and shot a murderous warning look to the young man when he tried to insist on helping her. The orderly paled, backed away a respectful distance and allowed the menacing Scot to set his wife down carefully and give her a kiss on the head. Claire was wheeled off to a room, Jamie glared death and destruction to the orderly one last time for good measure. When the orderly had scuttled off, Jamie stayed at the desk working out insurance information with Christie. Not for the first time, Jamie was thankful that Claire had so many friends at the hospital who were willing to go the extra mile for her.

Christie had seen the whole exchange with the orderly and gave Jamie his marching orders,

“Go on, Jamie, I'll finish this. I know it's hard to focus on paperwork right now.”

“Aye, thank ye, Christie, ye're a good'un.”

Christie chuckled softly as she watched the son of Alba lope down the hallway to his waiting wife.

In the room, Claire was sucking on ice chips and breathing through her first contraction. Jamie held her hand as she groaned. He stepped to the bath and got a cool cloth and tenderly bathed her forehead.

“Oh, that feels good, Jamie, th – “ Claire was cut-off midsentence by another wave of pain. Jamie took up her hand again and encouraged her to breathe again, just like they'd learned in birthing classes. Jamie winced in empathy when he saw Claire shudder and wished he could take the pain for her. He’d told her during their courtship that he could bear any amount of his own pain, but not hers.

Claire tried reading, watching television, crosswords and knitting to make the hours pass as pleasantly as possible. Jamie was patient and even massaged her feet and calves for her, which was pure heaven for Claire.

Claire's contractions continued intermittently and she realized they were becoming more frequent. “Jamie, push the call button, my pains are about three minutes apart.”

Jamie reached the button and mashed on it like his life depended on it. The nurse came and said, 

“You're nearly fully dilated, Claire, let's call Dr. Richelieu and get this show on the road, ok?”

“Ok, Diana.” Claire looked at the nurse, and Diana saw fear in her eyes.

“Hey, you've got this, SuperClaire! You'll be just fine,” Diana squeezed Claire's shoulder reassuringly.

And with that, Claire was wheeled into the birthing room, Jamie by her side the whole way.

Claire elected for an epidural and was grateful when the labor pains became much more manageable. She lay in bed and bore the pains as well as she could and appreciated that Jamie tried his best to help her by getting cool cloths and ice chips for her. Two hours passed, and then Hildegarde came in, and asked Claire what size catcher’s mitt she would need to catch the babies. Claire snorted and laughed, and even Jamie laughed, as nervous as he was. Claire felt a labor pain come on, and cried to Hildegard,

“I want to push!”

Hildegarde checked the monitors and said, “Okay, when the next contraction hits, Claire, I want you to push, do you understand?”

Claire nodded, exhaling noisily as the wave hit. She pushed with all her might, and Hildegarde said to Jamie,

“Push her back forward and support her like that for the next contraction, do you understand, Papa?”

“Aye, I do,” Jamie grinned. And when the next contraction hit, Jamie pushed and supported his wife's back almost to an upright position. Claire screamed in agony and Hildegarde said she could see the baby's head crowning - and it was covered in fiery peach fuzz. Claire and Jamie laughed in joy. A few minutes later, Hildegarde announced,

“Claire, cherie, this is the hardest part – the shoulders need to pass. Give me your most powerful push! Claire bore down and howled in agony and Jamie thought she'd break his hand with her grip.

A second later, a beautiful, angry wail interrupted Claire. 

“Claire and Jamie, it's a boy!” exclaimed Hildegarde, a smile crossing her face. “Jamie, would you like to cut the cord on Baby A?”

“Oh aye,” whispered Jamie, tears bathing his cheeks. “Hello, a leannan, mo mhac, I'm yer Da, and that magnificent woman is yer Mam, and there's Auntie Hildegarde over there. Welcome to the outside!” 

Hildegarde flushed in pleasure at being called “Auntie.”

Jamie cut the cord and kissed his son. A nurse took him to clean and measure and weigh him and do all those things to which newborns must submit, however indignantly. Jamie kissed his wife gently on the lips, and whispered, 

“Thank ye, mo chridhe. I love ye.”

A few minutes later, their son was brought back and put in his father's arms. Claire smiled when she saw her big husband being so careful and tender with the baby. One of his hands covered the baby's entire body.

Too soon, it seemed, Jamie had to give up his son, because his second child was on its way. He held Claire's hand and dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth. He was in awe of his wife. She was so tiny, and yet was giving birth to his two children. How could one man be so fortunate?

Six minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, the head of Baby B was almost crowning and Claire urged Jamie to witness it. He went and was dazzled by what he saw. His wife was actually pushing another human being out of her body. Little by little, the head crowned, and Jamie burst into tears when he saw a second shock of ginger hair appear. 

“What is it, Jamie?” Claire asked, concerned.

“Sorcha, two redheads!” Jamie burbled. 

Claire cheered and gave the nurse standing next to her a high-five.

And with one last tremendous effort, Claire pushed her second child out.

“Go ahead and announce it, Jamie,” said Hildegarde, with an indulgent grin on her face.

“It's a boy, Claire! Two boys!” Baby B screamed at having to leave his Mam's warm tummy. Jamie proudly cut Baby B's cord and handed him off to a nurse. 

He enveloped his precious woman in a gentle hug and Claire felt his tears annointing her hair. They held each other and rocked slowly, crying with happiness.

Another nurse brought Baby A back and announced that even though he was small at just  
4lbs 6 ounces, that was good for a twin. Baby B weighed in at 4lbs 8 ounces, also a respectable weight. All of their vital signs were good, and they were breathing without difficulty. Claire took her first son and tried to encourage him to nurse. She was relieved when he latched on and sucked vigorously. As soon as he finished, she handed him to Jamie, who gently placed him on his shoulder and rubbed his back to get any bubbles out. Claire took Baby B and nursed him as well, and then burped him as well. 

Claire got one of the nurses to take three pictures – one of her with both boys, one of Jamie beaming into the camera with both boys, and one of the four of them. He immediately  
group-texted his parents, Jenny and Ian, Murtagh, Glenna, Suzette and The Wild Ones the following: “Two Boys! Claire is tired but fine. More details to follow!” He sent a text to John to let the staff know.

Brian and Ellen went to the village pub that night with Jenny and Ian and Brian bought drinks for the entire bar to celebrate. The bartender rang the tip bell and called for quiet, 

“These lovely folks just found out their son and daughter-in-law in Edinburgh gave birth to healthy twin boys! This round's on them!” 

The patrons whistled and cheered and rapped knuckles on the ancient tables and congratulated the family. Ellen couldn't stop herself from crying in her first beer.

Brian Henry Ian Fraser and his younger brother, Seumas Murtagh David Fraser, were baptized three months later in their parents' faith in the village church where their parents married and generations of their father's family had been christened. When Jamie and Claire announced the babies' secondary and tertiary names at the baptism, Brian, Ian and Murtagh, especially, cried.

They both had their father's red hair and both had curly, wild mops like their mother. They inherited Jamie's almost-feline eyes and their mother's whisky eyes and skin tone. They were their parents' pride and loved spending time with Da's parents at Lallybroch with their cousins, Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian. 

Their godfather, Murtagh, was one of their favorites. He regaled them with stories of Da's childhood, Scottish tales and often took them out for ice cream after their weekly Gaelic lessons.

Two years later, Jamie and Claire were surprised to learn that they were expecting again. Of course, they were overjoyed. Another baby was a gift. Imagine their shock when Hildegarde announced it was another set of twins!

At exactly 37 weeks’ gestation, On May 25th, Claire was delivered safely of another Baby A and Baby B. The were only two minutes and eighteen seconds apart, much to Claire's relief. The babies had Claire's mahogany curls, their father's sea-blue feline eyes and skin color. Baby A weighed in at 5lbs 3 ounces and Baby B at 5lbs 5 ounces.

Again, Jamie and Claire took the same set of photos with their girls as they had with their boys and sent them in a group text to everyone.

This time, Jenny and Ian took Brian and Ellen to the local pub and paid for a round of drinks for the whole bar. Just as two years past, the same bartender rang the bell and called for quiet. 

“This young lady's brother and sister-in-law just gave birth to twin girls, after they had twin boys two years ago! This round's on them!” The crowd roared in approval, and a few patrons came to the table saying they remembered the first announcement, which made Jenny and Ellen cry.

Julia Ellen Beauchamp Fraser and Elizabeth Janet MacKenzie Fraser were baptized in the same church as their brothers. Their godparents were Angus and Laoghire and Geilis and Rupert. Their father taught them how to click-it and hunt, fish and defend themselves, just like their brothers. Claire taught all her children basic first aid, CPR, how to read maps and compasses, change a tire and the oil in the family car.

Ellen and Jenny both cried when the girls' full names were read at their baptism.

The boys grew as tall and broad as their father and the girls were as delicate physically and as outspoken as their mother.

Claire and Jamie instilled in their sons and daughters a an unflinching knowledge of right and wrong and the rightness of helping and standing up for those weaker than themselves, because that is simply what is done. They were counseled to always share and be generous with their help and forgiveness.

The boys protected their sisters and broke more than a few noses and fingers of boys who weren't convinced that no means no. The girls protected their handsome brothers from scheming females and told them exactly what they thought of their girlfriends.

Jamie and Claire were blissfully happy with their marriage and their children. They spent over sixty years together, and their four children gave them 10 much-loved and spoiled grandchildren.

And so, dear reader, I thank you for taking this journey with Clan Fraser. May your days be filled with sunshine and your evenings with contentedness.

Author's Notes

*blushes ten shades of screaming scarlet*

Ok, so I feel I need to confess that the guest room scene is my absolute fantasy. A king bed with a full ensuite and emergency supplies for last-minute guests. I know it's kooky… anyone else out there have the same quirk? *hears crickets*

A gràidh = love  
A leannan = sweetheart  
“Ahhh, quelle surprise! Merci beaucoup!” = “Ah, what a surprise! Thank you so much!”  
Bairn = child  
Bana-Goistidh = godmother  
Beelzebub = Satan or the Devil  
Braw = fine  
“Built close to the water" was something my ex-husband would say about me in German. He meant that I cry easily and it's spot-on.  
Cerebral Palsy (CP) - develops either in the womb or shortly after birth. It's when the cerebral cortex is damaged. My issue was caused by anoxia, or lack of sufficient oxygen in my incubator. Cases can be severe (think Ashton Kutcher's twin brother) or very mild, as in my case. I had to have three of the operations mentioned in order to keep walking and developing normally.  
Cockstand or cock stand = an erection  
Dalta-baistidh = godson  
Dhia = God  
Goistidh = godfather  
Honeypot = vagina  
Ifrinn = hell  
Kneadful Things Bakery is located in Birmingham, Alabama and the owner, Jasmine, makes incredible custom cakes and cupcakes. She's on FB. Check her out!  
Maw = mouth  
Mo chridhe = my heart  
Mo mhac = my son  
Mo nighean donn – my brown-haired lass  
Sassenach = foreigner, especially an English person. It is Jamie's pet name for Claire  
Silver Oak = a winery in Northern California that makes wonderful wine. When I still drank, their Merlot was my favorite.  
“Quoi" = “what" in French  
Son of Alba = “Alba” is the Latin name for Scotland  
Sorcha = “light” in Scottish Gaelic, equivalent to “Claire" in English.  
Swivet = mild panic or anxiety  
“To cut a rug" = an American colloquialism for “dance."  
Wame = stomach  
Wee = small or tiny

The twins stutter really happened when my mother went into labor at either 30 or 32 weeks' gestation (the doctors weren't sure). I was born in 1970, so there was no way to know for sure if there was a singleton or a multiple, so to say they were surprised is a gross understatement. The stutter came from my father when he was told that he had twins instead of the expected singleton. My parents only had one set of everything and a really tiny house. My Granny thought my mother was hallucinating when her daughter told her it was twins. 

My mother told me years ago that she climbed a long flight of stairs the day before she went into labor… 

The kicking situation really happened. My poor mother would get kicked by one of us and then soon after that, the other. We were total “wee bastards,” as Jamie might say! She didn't know she was carrying twins, so she assumed she had a really fast baby!

We were 3.6 and 3.8 lbs, respectively, and I, Baby B, was lucky to survive.  
I also had Neonatal RDS, or Respiratory Distress Syndrome.  
”It occurs in infants whose lungs have not yet fully developed. The disease is mainly caused by a lack of a slippery substance in the lungs called surfactant. This substance helps the lungs fill with air and keeps the air sacs from deflating. Surfactant is present when the lungs are fully developed.” 

My mother told me that the reason I survived this illness was directly due to the Kennedy family. In 1963, First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy delivered her 4th of 4 children, Patrick. He suffered from RDS, among other things. It was known then as Hyaline Membrane Disease, and he did not survive. President Kennedy then ordered that money be spent to discover how to treat this disease. Because I was born in 1970, I benefited from the research and survived. 

https://medlineplus.gov/ency/article/001563.htm

The hospital discharged us before we hit 5lbs, which is considered a normal birth weight. They let us go home early because they knew my mother would be a good mother, which she was. She recently passed and I miss her every damn day.


End file.
